


Parental Responsibilities

by MeanderingMotivation



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Creampie, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Father Victor, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Ice Skating, Light Angst, M/M, Nipple Play, Not Incest, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, Son Yuri, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Thirsty Victor, Victor x Yuuri, Yuri Needs a Family, Yuri is Thirteen Here, Yuri is a brat, at first, not mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8576146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeanderingMotivation/pseuds/MeanderingMotivation
Summary: Being the secret son of a famous Russian ice skater is tough.OR Yuri Plisetsky is Victor's son, and gets tired of his gross antics.





	1. My greatest creation was(n't) you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri Plisetsky was a fucking miracle, and he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to any readers! So, I've recently fallen in love with YOI, and wrote this after watching the fourth episode. I would have published it sooner, but I felt apprehensive contributing to a new fandom. Writing this short chapter was fun and I hope to write more. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t know how his fourteen year old father got his dick into an elder female, nor does he want to. He assumes it was consensual, no doubt the male was as flirtatious then as he was now, and was too careless to wrap his cock in a condom.

Well, **SURPRISE** , here he was, a small figure of foul attitude and prodigal talent. His grandfather had raised him, whilst his mother endeavoured to ignore his existence, and _Daddy Dearest_ tried to forget that ill-timed incident that had brought about his accidental birth. _Daddy Dearest_ had a career to focus on, and was much too dedicated to the art of spontaneity and flamboyance to focus on his l _ittle miracle._

Yeah, a fucking miracle. What else was it? What were the odds? Things of this nature didn’t happen often, especially with someone so young.

Yuri Plisetsky was a fucking miracle, and he knew it.

Yeah, he could mope around about his forgetful father’s general assholery, or whimper because his mother was too afraid to get an abortion, or maybe even go public and try to slander his father’s reputation, bring the man down to his eye-level. Which, happened to be rather _low._

But he didn’t. Yuri Plisetsky was no sobbing coward. He didn’t go around crying, let alone in public (like some Japanese fatty he need not mention) and he _certainly_ didn’t base his entire future around some unrealistic dream of a happy family.

No. He had a better dream. Him, on the ice, before a cheering crowd, the winner of The Grand Prix Senior Division. He’d be there, awash with adrenaline and triumph. And he’d give a middle fucking finger to his father just for good measure.

Because he didn’t need him. He’d get there on his own. He didn’t need a doting father to rely on or a loving mother to support him. Sure, he wanted Victor to help him with some choreography, but in the scheme of things that was rendered rather inconsequential. It was the first and last time he would ever want something from the man. Besides, Victor owed him that much, at least. He’d never asked his father for anything before, even when times were tough and his grandfather’s aging was becoming more apparent. He never asked for monetary compensation, or new skates when his feet were being rubbed raw, he never asked for affection or birthday presents, nor did he try to capture the man’s attention whenever they crossed paths.

He had too much pride for that. So he’d carry the burden, support what little family he had, and suck up the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He may have only been thirteen years old (and a tiny one at that) but in a couple of years he’d be old enough to compete in the senior circuit and land more difficult jumps. He’d wipe the floor with his pathetic competition, and hopefully manage to surpass his space cadet of a father.

 _That_ would be satisfying. To beat Victor with a choreography the elder man himself had developed. He was under no illusion about Victor’s talent and experience, but the man was getting older, well into retirement territory, and Yuri was young and fit with a body brimming with youth. Not to mention Victor’s clearly waning motivation…

Yuri had everything under control. A deal was a deal and even a fool like Victor had enough honour to follow through with a promise.

At least that was what he thought, until the man disappeared off to Japan to coach some incompetent Japanese boy who really ought to have given up already. Logically, he knew it would have been wise to ignore such actions. Their deal wouldn’t come into effect until Yuri had reached the proper age to enter the senior division, and that wasn’t for a while (as much as he loathed it) but yet…

_He drops everything just for some nobody?_

Victor was giving up a promising career. After this, it was unlikely he’d be able to return to professional skating. He was sacrificing a glorious winning streak. And for what? Some oversensitive loser with no hope of winning a title?

_Why?_

What was so special about _this_ Yuuri? Victor hadn’t given up his career for anything, even the birth of his _child_ , so why this man? What was so goddamned life changing about this Japanese pig? Victor could have chosen to coach anybody, so why…

He was jealous.

There was no denying it. No matter how much he wished it wasn’t so, he was jealous. Because deep down, despite his piss and vinegar and certainty that he didn’t need _anybody_ , he was still some doe-eyed brat who wanted some semblance of a relationship with his father. It was pathetic, and he hated himself for harbouring such lame hopes.

But he couldn’t stop it, no matter how much he tried. So he buried those troubling emotions until he could barely remember them, until they surfaced at times like this. Scorned and hurting and _loathing_. Then he would snap.

And he would do so spectacularly. Yuri didn’t do anything half-way, especially snapping. When he did, he’d be inconsolable in his rage, and the only one who’d ever been able to calm him down was his grandfather.

He missed the old man. Competing didn’t allow much time for visits, but at least Yuri knew he was in the best aged care facility in Russia. He paid the absurdly expensive bills, after all. He was only grateful the man’s memory wasn’t going yet.

Regardless of this, Yuri was still going to snap. And he wasn’t going to do it within close distance of his grandfather. He was going to do it in Japan, before his failed father and said failed father’s new obsession. Nothing would stop him. He was independent enough to travel alone, even at his young age. Money helped matters along anyhow. Nosy flight attendant? Extra cash. Concerned passenger? More cash. He had enough currency converted to appease people of many nationalities.

He doubted he’d require it though. He may have been small, but his glower was enough to send most screaming to the metaphorical hills.

Which was how he found himself in Hasetsu, dragging his suitcase with a determined gaze. The place had a sort of quaint charm about it, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. Russia was the best place for him. It was his home.

_Da._

Yuri thought.

_В родном углу всё по нутру. (It is good to be visiting, but it is better at home.)_

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri uttered a frustrated sigh, upon seeing the storage room that was to be his for the duration of his stay. It was far from the modern lodgings he was accustomed to, and the rather spoiled teen was far from impressed.

He may have grown up in the slums, in a tiny bedroom infested with cockroaches, but he deserved luxury after all of his hard work, and this place wasn’t cutting it. Sure, it was clean and cosy, but…

_Это место является лачуга. Так что не удивительным. (This place is a hovel. So not awesome.)_

He’d had his bath earlier, and devoured a pork cutlet bowl, but the room really wasn’t working for him. He didn’t even have a mattress! He couldn’t sleep so low to the ground! Like some kind of animal…

Victor had a bed though. A proper bed. Perhaps he could entice him to swap…

It was unlikely, but Yuri was willing to try. If he shouted enough, the other man would probably leave, giving him time to stake the room as his own. Then he could finally sleep. This entire affair had utterly exhausted him, which was no easy feat considering his usually hectic practice schedule which he was electing to forego. It didn’t matter though. He would show Victor who the superior skater was and the man would be forced to train him instead of that talent-less Japanese fool.

_One would think,_

Yuri thought with annoyance.

_The man would want to coach his own son. That would get him the reaction he so desires. Surprise._

It would be the biggest reaction of the man’s entire career. Yuri’s parentage had remained secret, a precautionary measure to keep Victor’s career going. Negative media attention would only detract from the man’s true potential, so anyone who knew their true relation was slapped with a Non-Disclosure Agreement, and forced to sign lest they be sued. Not that it truly mattered. Not even Yuri’s coach knew Victor was his father. Which, in a way, was good. There was no expectation for him to morph into Victor junior.

_God forbid that ever happen._

Yuri wanted to be his own man.

This thought in mind, Yuri slid from the storage room, navigating the household with the quiet grace skating had taught him. It had a warm, homely feel, nothing like the crisp coolness of Russia. He had seen Victor’s room earlier, so finding it was no problem.

The problem lay within.

Yuri was not a polite boy, so he slammed open the sliding doors without a hint of delicacy, a scowl on his face and a litany of swears ready at his down turned lips. His opened mouth immediately snapped shut, at the sight laid before him.

Victor was naked, which wasn’t in itself very odd, as the man had always been obscenely comfortable with his body, but what lay beneath him, writhing in pleasure and with pink flushed cheeks (the colour of a piglet’s skin, Yuri would later note with disgust) was the Japanese Yuuri, soft legs spread indecently and with moans parting his mouth. “Mmm, Victor,” He got out in a breathy gasp, legs trembling. “Please, _please_ …”

There was a vague humming noise, and Yuri watched in horror as Victor’s mouth detached from a pebbled nipple, licking the reddened flesh lazily. His eyes were half-mast, his voice seductive, even with his accented Japanese. “Please what, my little Yuuri?”

_**‘Little Yuuri’?** Is he **serious?** That’s what you should call your **son!** Not a lover!_

At this stage, Yuri was completely disgusted and preparing to drown himself in the hot-springs to rid himself of the scarring image, however, just before he could bolt away…

“Daddy,” Yuuri moaned, as Victor idly stroked the flesh of the man’s thigh. “Please, _Daddy._ ”

Yuri promptly gagged, kneeling at the waist as nausea rippled through his body. The sound attracted the attention of the two oblivious lovers on the bed, and Yuuri scrambled to cover himself whilst Victor squinted at his offspring. At first, he merely appeared irritated, but when he properly identified the intruder his face melted into shock. He slid from atop Yuuri’s body, dragging another cover over the mortified man, and approached Yuri with a frown. “Yuri,” He said, tone abnormally rough. “What are you doing here?”

Yuri directed his gaze to the ground, concentrating on evening his breathing. His stomach rolled rebelliously. Still, he answered with a bite. “What are _you_ doing here, _asshole?_ Here I thought you were helping that pig out of inspiration, but you’re just in it for his ass!”

 _“Do not insult your host, Yuri.”_ Victor said sharply, in Russian. _“He is kind allowing you to stay here.”_

Predictably, such a statement made Yuri bristle. _“I am not some charity case!”_ He had transitioned to complete Russian, knowing how to express himself better in his mother tongue. _“And I won’t be told what to do by some deviant!”_

Victor gave a laugh, but it wasn’t pleasant. Not at all like his usual laughter. _“Do not delude yourself, Yuri. Your entire life is a charity case. Practice some gratitude for once in your short life.”_

“How _**dare**_ you-“

“Victor,” Yuuri’s voice interrupted the argument. He was standing fully clothed, glasses perched clumsily on his nose. “Please don’t argue. I’ll leave and you can talk more amicably-“

Incensed, Yuri interjected. “Shut your mouth, _shlyukha_ _._ ”

Yuuri, not knowing slurs in Russian, merely blinked. He guessed whatever Yuri said wasn’t complimentary, but sensed it was relatively offensive by the anger on Victor’s face.

_“You are the son of a whore. An accident. One no one ever wanted.”_

Yuri had had these thoughts echo in his own head before. Usually, they were the results of his own mind, rarely, they were slurred at him after his mother had consumed an unholy amount of vodka. But he’d never heard them from Victor before. Their relationship had always been distant but semi-pleasant. Never caustic or cruel. And somehow, hearing the words from his father’s mouth hurt more than any ice skating injury ever could.

Suddenly, his eyes felt wet, and he blinked his eyelashes fiercely, not wanting to appear weak. _“You should have gotten rid of me then!”_

Yuuri, eyebrows furrowed, watched Yuri’s reaction to the conversation with concern. “Victor,” He started, but said man ignored him.

_“Perhaps I should have, I never wanted a son, especially one as unruly as you!”_

_“I should have known you wouldn’t keep your promise!”_ Yuri huffed, overcome with emotion. _“You’re an awful, dishonest man! You and that Japanese pig deserve one another!”_

Victor raised a hand, but Yuri ducked away, displaying his fast reflexes. Before the man could attempt to strike him again, Yuri was out the door, running as fast as his slim legs could carry him. His father may have been taller, but Yuri was a quick sprinter.

Yuri didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get far away from this inn.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor was left to stare at the fleeing form, a conflicted feeling rising. He’d never intended on striking the boy, but he’d just felt so _angry_. Yuri could say whatever he wanted about him (likely he deserved it) but hearing such insults spewed about Yuuri, it made something primal stir within him. Something he’d never felt before, despite his numerous lovers.

A protective instinct.

One he’d never felt for even his own _baby_. What was wrong with him?

Either way, he knew how to forget about this. There were two methods. The first, was working out his frustrations on the ice, and the second, was fucking the Japanese Yuuri into oblivion. The man may have been inexperienced in the way of sex, but for some reason Victor didn’t find that off-putting. It only meant that he was Yuuri’s first _everything._

With an intense look on his handsome face, he stalked back to the bed, dragging Yuuri down and trapping him beneath him. He attacked his mouth with a type of desperation Yuuri had never sensed before, and although he found it incredibly sexy, his mind was still stuck on the earlier argument. It didn’t seem right to forget about Yuri in lieu of sexual activity. The boy had seemed extremely upset. Yuuri had never seen the young Russian boy so teary. To be honest, he’d thought Yuri didn’t have that much emotion inside of him.

But he was wrong. Watching that display, it seemed Yuri wasn’t some bad-tempered robot with a small emotional range. He was just a boy, and boys, no matter how difficult, shouldn’t be treated that way. Yuuri couldn’t interpret all that was spoken, but knew what Victor had said must have been terrible to make the Russian Yuri react that way.

And more pressing, was one of the words he _did_ recognise.

If he was right in his understanding…

Well, Victor just got a lot more eccentric. If that were at all possible.

A hand languidly stroked Yuuri’s clothed cock, and he whimpered at the light stimulation. Victor could be such a tease…

_**No.** We can’t do this. Not now._

Yuuri couldn’t, in good conscience, have sex with Victor after witnessing what he just had. It would be downright abhorrent. He wasn’t Yuri’s biggest fan, but still…

“Stop.” Yuuri objected, first weakly. Victor ignored him, slipping his tongue past Yuuri’s lips and mapping out the explored territory inside. “Stop.” He repeated, then louder, with more certainty. “ **STOP!”** The yell was of a high volume, and Yuuri cringed, hoping no one came rushing to see what was going on. His relationship with Victor wasn’t exactly common knowledge yet (the sexual one that is) and he had no desire to explain himself to anyone.

Luckily, there was no bustling footsteps, or curious exclamations. Just silence, asides from the occasional creaking or moaning of the old inn.

With a relieved sigh, Yuuri slid out from under Victor, adjusting his glasses. The elder man seemed to be in a state of shock, and allowed him to go without protest.

Yuuri gave another sigh, unsure of how to proceed. He’d never seen his coach appear so vulnerable before. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, nowhere near as long as you’ve known Yuri, but I still want our relationship to be honest.”

Victor winced at this, and Yuuri sensed more of what the two Russian’s conversation had been about. It was clear Victor was a little absent-minded, forgetting promises, and what not, but Yuuri had never considered him dishonest. Perhaps the other Yuri did.

But more pressing…

 _“Syn.”_ Yuuri repeated, with a little difficulty. “That’s how you pronounce it, right?”

Viktor gave a sigh of his own. “Сын.” He corrected somewhat tiredly.

“Please tell me you called him a son of a bitch.” Yuuri pleaded. Yet, he knew it was untrue. He would have been capable of identifying that insult. It was one he heard commonly whilst touring, with scathing and with fondness. “Victor…” He prompted when the man scooped up his underwear, yanking them up his muscled legs. “Please…”

“You should go to bed,” Victor said, ignoring Yuuri’s previous statement. “You have a gruelling day of training ahead of you tomorrow.”

“What about Yurio? Shouldn’t we go after him?” Yuuri felt a little concerned. His hometown was a nice place, with a relatively low crime rate, but the Russian Yuri was a young foreigner in an unfamiliar environment. He knew his parents, his mother in particular-

_Oh God._

Yuuri thought, blanching.

_No, no, **no.** I’m too young for this! I’m supposed to be a sexy pork cutlet bowl, not a-_

“Yuri will be fine.” Victor said gruffly. It was a tone greatly different to his usual one. “He just threw a tantrum. He’ll be at the rink tomorrow morning waiting.”

“Are you sure?” Yuuri questioned awkwardly. This really wasn’t his business. “A boy his age should be in bed by now. Not running around the streets.”

Victor gave him a small, sincere smile. “You are very caring, Yuuri. But Yuri knows how to look after himself perfectly well.”

“But he shouldn’t have to be. No one should be alone.”

“Russia is different to Japan, Yuuri. We don’t coddle our children as much.”

“So he _**is**_ yours.” Yuuri responded with knowing certainty. Inwardly, he was frazzled beyond belief (that tended to happen when one was walked in upon whilst having raunchy sex with their _coach_ ) add that to the shock of finding out Victor had a son, and he was prepared to faint. Luckily, he was managing to stay composed. Barely.

_I always knew Victor had lovers, but I never would have thought he’d have a child. He must have been very young…_

And he knew. Victor knew he had a child and ignored said child.

Yuuri loved Victor, but that was…

_No. I can’t judge the situation. I don’t have all the facts._

“Da.” Victor admitted reluctantly, accent heavy.

Yuuri swallowed heavily. “Does…anyone else know? Any skaters, I mean.”

“No.” Victor was slipping back into bed, a consternated look on his attractive features. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about the current subject, but Yuuri couldn’t let it go.

He wanted to be _close_ to Victor. He couldn’t share a bed with someone who kept such heavy, weighing secrets to themselves.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Yuuri promised adamantly.

Victor cracked a small smile, endeared. He reached out a hand, and ruffled Yuuri’s dishevelled mop of hair fondly. “I know, _solnishko_.”

As selfish as it was, it wouldn’t just be Victor’s coaching career on the line if the media found out. Yuuri’s own career would be jeopardised as well. Negative attention was something they both needed to avoid. Still…

“I don’t think you should send Yuri away.” Yuuri blurted, immediately appalled with his own audacity. He placed a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Victor’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t berate the other male. Something Yuuri was immensely grateful for… “We made a deal.” He intoned. “I would either coach you, or Yuri.”

It was a staggering reminder, and Yuuri immediately felt panicked. Had he just inadvertently signed away his coach? It would be just like him to mess up in such a big way…

“So make sure you win for me.” Victor said huskily, blue eyes practically glowing in the semi-darkness. “Only you can make my heart beat faster, Yuuri.”

Such a statement made Yuuri brim with pride (and a little something else), and he momentarily forgot about Victor’s parental drama.

It wasn’t too late to join him in bed, after all. Yuuri hated when meals were never finished, and Victor’s lips were more delicious than katsudon.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end. For now. (Please) Review if you would like, and tell me whether I should bother continuing this. I have some plans, but we'll just have to wait and see ;)


	2. Nobody said it was easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri nodded his head in clarification. “Da. Yuuri Katsuki.” And then, because he was a complete and utter little shit, he chirped out “Kaasan.”
> 
> The policeman positively convulsed, shocked in the extreme. 
> 
> Yuri smiled, a deceptively sweet sight. 
> 
> Da. Kaasan. He may as well call him that, since Victor is fucking him. 
> 
> AND
> 
> Yuuri had never known such a kink had existed within him, until he’d accidentally muttered Otōsan during a particularly gruelling training session. The most embarrassing thing had been he hadn’t shouted the title in a moment of passion, but rather uttered it in a moment of sensitivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to anyone reading! I decided to continue this after the reviews I received. They really inspired me to keep writing :)
> 
> Also, YOI is just too much fun to avoid! 
> 
> From here on out (if inspiration sticks) the chapters should be longer. So after this, expect longer chapters (hopefully) and updates a little more frequently. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri reclined on the bench tiredly, a strong frown on his youthful features. He’d been outside for a while, tucked inside a bus shelter as the air gradually got cooler. Victor’s words still echoed in his mind, more stinging than any wind could be.

_Son of a whore. **Mistake.**_

Yuri knew the words were true. But it still hurt to hear them from Victor.

_I’m such a coward. I can’t believe I ran away like some little girl. Like that Japanese pig._

Yuri wished he’d had the sense to bring his phone with him. Scrolling through Twitter and Instagram always helped distract him. Especially Mila’s. It was always filled with numerous selfies of the redheaded woman, and he found himself missing her idle chatter. The chatter of all of his Russian teammates, who also monopolised social media.

_I never should have come here. I should have known Victor would never prioritise me._

But Yuri was impulsive. And stubborn. And much too prideful.

_Stupid. This is **stupid.** **I am** stupid._

And now he was stuck in Japan, with his air-headed father and said air-headed father’s _fuck._

He still couldn’t grasp that Victor was-

Yuri shuddered, disgusted. It was one thing to know his father was sexually active, but to know he was sexually active with _**Yuuri?**_ It seemed incomprehensible. He’d heard rumours about the man’s experimentation (sometimes with disdain, considering their home country’s stance on homosexual relationships) but he’d always assumed Victor preferred women over the same sex.

He himself failed to grasp the concept of appreciating two sexes. He couldn’t muster any excitement for either of them. Which, he often reminded himself, was a _positive_ thing. It meant he had no distractions. No romance to take away his attention.

_Just another difference between me and Victor._

Yuri thought bitterly. At his age, Victor had already been contemplating sexual activities.

Did it matter though? It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to be like that bastard.

He wanted to be an individual. He _was_ an individual. He didn’t let his parentage define him.

Yuri yawned wide, jaw stretching. He was extremely tired, but napping in a bus shelter didn’t seem wise, even if it was in a small town such as this.

_I suppose I’ll have to find another inn. If I offer to pay them extra tomorrow, they might let me stay the night…_

Being the absolute genius he was-

_Heavy sarcasm._

He hadn’t thought to return to his room before fleeing. This meant he didn’t have a wallet or credit card in his possession. Just the clothes on his back.

Which happened to be light pyjamas.

**_Fuck._ **

He was in a poor situation.

_It could be worse. I could be stuck listening to Victor fucking that fatso._

Although Yuuri hadn’t looked particularly heavy in the position Victor had him in…

_I need some bleach for my brain._

_And a noose for my neck._

**_Fuck my life._ **

Yuri had a penchant for the melodramatic. He was a newly turned teenager, after all. He tended to over-react to just about any situation. It was something his coach regularly scolded him for. Apparently he needed a cool head and an even temper, else he’d make foolish mistakes and end up relying on the unpredictable like Victor. The man had essentially destroyed his own career, by relying on the element of surprise to satisfy himself. He didn’t skate because he loved skating. He skated because it was new, and fun, and a way to keep one-upping himself at each competition.

Victor was selfish. He always had been.

Yuri didn’t want to be like that.

_I should probably find an inn. I’m exhausted._

A mixture of physical and mental exhaustion plagued him, weighing his body down until it felt heavy and cumbersome. He should have been in bed hours ago, he needed the rest to perform at his peak level.

Just as he was forcing himself to his feet, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Immediately, his mind flew to Victor. Had the man come after him? Was he worried about his son being in a foreign environment so late in the evening? Was Yuuri with him? Should he concede defeat and go back?

However when he looked up, he didn’t see worried ice blue eyes. They were hazel, and belonged to a portly man dressed in a uniform. Yuri assumed it was a police one.

_Should I pretend I don’t know Japanese?_

Carefully, Yuri wiped all traces of comprehension from his face. He looked down at the hand with an imperially raised eyebrow, and the policeman wisely withdrew it. “Da?” He said, in his roughest accent. Judging by the policeman’s befuddled look, he had limited to none understanding of the Russian language. “Da?” He repeated, even rougher. Hopefully, he could scare the old man off.

Unfortunately, his petite form and pretty face didn’t exactly scream **DANGER,** even if his eyes and attitude did. To the dedicated old man, he just looked like a lonely youth, homeless on a chilly night in a foreign land. Bleeding hearts seemed to love him.

“Konichiwa.” The man said in pronounced Japanese. It was a distinct greeting, and Yuri knew acting confused would just make the man suspicious.

“Privet.” He returned, still favouring Russian.

“Are you alone?” The man then asked, eyebrows furrowed. “A-L-O-N-E.” He enunciated, gesturing around Yuri tellingly. The area around them was deserted, but he seemed to be hopeful Yuri was still waiting for a neglectful parent or guardian. “C-U-R-F-E-W.” He added sternly, upon Yuri not answering. “Curfew.”

Curfew was a word Yuri understood well. It was a rule hammered into the ice skaters upon international travel, and one Yuri had broken numerous times post-competition. He liked freedom and independence, and what felt freer than exploring a new place dressed in the _finest_ feline inspired fashion? Travel in _style,_ and with gold medals around his neck.

So yes, Yuri knew the phrase 'curfew' in the language of every nation he had visited. Or hoped to.

_Only now I have no Yakov to run to. If I get taken to the station…_

Unbidden, fear rose in Yuri. He didn’t know Victor’s number, nor did he remember the address of the inn the man was staying in. And even if he did, he didn’t want a cop ringing the establishment at this hour. It was horribly impolite, and although Yuri could be rude and abrasive, he didn’t want to be so discourteous to the family that had fed him. Even he wasn’t that low. Yuuri, on the other hand…

Well, it would be kind of satisfying to interrupt the man’s sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Name. Age.” The policeman said, placing down a cup of water before the young man. He had dragged Yuri to the police station not that long ago, and sat him behind a rickety desk. He’d draped him in a scratchy blanket, and offered him a drink.

Yuri, cold and with a dry throat, had accepted. Now, sipping from the plastic cup, he decided to offer his last name as an alternative. This wouldn’t work if the man was confused between _two_ Yuri/Yuuri’s.

_This old man doesn’t seem like the sort to watch ice skating, but I’m sure in this small town he’s heard of that pig. This is going to be **hilarious.**_

And petty. And immature. But…

_This cop isn’t going to leave me alone._

“Plisetsky.” Yuri said shortly. “Thirteen.”

_My accent sounds a bit off. Should I count the numbers on my hand? Wait, that’s English…_

Fortunately, the man seemed to grasp what he had said. He was shaking his head disapprovingly, clicking his tongue about the irresponsibility of his _kaasan_ and _otosan_. “Number.” He eventually demanded, tapping the nearby phone.

And Yuri, widening his big eyes and jutting out his bottom lip, said in an utterly angelic voice. “Yuuri Katsuki. Da?”

The policeman blinked in surprise, but Yuri was glad to note the recognition that flickered in them. It was clear he was familiar with the problematic ice skater. “Yuuri Katsuki?” He repeated, slower. “Ice skater?”

Yuri nodded his head in clarification. “Da. Yuuri Katsuki.” And then, because he was a complete and utter little _shit_ , he chirped out “ _ **Kaasan**_.”

The policeman positively convulsed, shocked in the extreme.

Yuri smiled, a deceptively sweet sight.

_Da. **Kaasan**. I may as well call him that, since Victor is fucking him._

And he just _knew_ the Japanese skater would hate it.

Yuri’s smile widened as the policeman deftly picked up the phone.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri was interrupted from his comfortable slumber by the vaguely irritating buzzing of his phone. He was cuddled up to Victor, their legs tangled together, and with his head tucked into the elder male’s chest. There was a soiled rag discarded on the floor, covered with the results of their previous lovemaking. Victor had had him on his back, then on his knees, and then with him _on top,_ riding him in a passionate manner. Yuuri hadn’t intended on being fucked so many times (he was certainly going to be sore now) but he couldn’t really complain. He’d dreamed about this ever since he’d hit puberty, and Victor’s body was a much better substitute for his own hand.

(Thank fuck for your stamina.) Victor had growled, breath hot on Yuuri’s ear, as their hips had snapped together in pleasurable tandem. (You’re a good little boy for Daddy, Yuuri. So good.)

Even remembering such words was enough to make Yuuri’s cheeks hot.

He’d never known such a kink had existed within him, until he’d accidentally muttered _Otōsan_ during a particularly gruelling training session. The most embarrassing thing had been he hadn’t shouted the title in a moment of passion, but rather uttered it in a moment of sensitivity.

He’d been incredibly disheartened after he’d botched one of his jumps, and when Victor had sighed with a miniscule hint of exasperation, he’d hunched over in defeat, feeling wretched for wasting the man’s time. Victor was the most talented ice skater in the world, with numerous awards and titles to his name, and he was wasting his time on someone as insignificant and pathetic as Yuuri. There were so many other better candidates for coaching. Ones that were younger and more confident, ones with perfect bodies devoid of stretch marks…

Emotionally and physically exhausted (and with his brown eyes directed humbly at the ice) he’d murmured an emotional apology rife with guilt. (“I’m so sorry for disappointing you, Otōsan.)

It had taken him several long moments to realise the name he adored so much (and which rolled so handsomely off of his tongue) had not been spoken. In another several moments, he’d flushed as red as a lobster, and his cheeks had turned hotter than a cooking pan.

After a pause, he heard Victor give a disbelieving gasp, and then a strangled moan.

Yuuri had thought it impossible to feel any _more_ mortified. Apparently he’d been wrong. He’d wanted to raise his head, to see Victor’s reaction better, but he’d felt too horrified to force it upwards. Would he be wearing a disgusted expression? Would he not want to coach Yuuri now? Yuuri wouldn’t blame him…

Then, a large, warm hand had settled over his skull, long fingers carding through his sweaty hair. It had been a comforting touch, a tender touch, and Yuuri had relaxed under the ministrations. He’d always enjoyed having his hair played with. It was soothing. Still…

(“Oh my sweet boy,”) He’d cooed, voice rough. (“You could never disappoint _**Daddy**_. Not now, not ever”)

And hearing that tame sentence was enough to get the blood rushing _lower_. For _**both**_ of them. Victor seemed more into _it_ then Yuuri was.

(“You’re a good boy, Yuuri. My good little boy. You make Daddy prouder and prouder every day.”)

And Yuuri had preened at the praise, odd as it may have been, and the rest of the evening had been spent experimenting on that raw new kink as much as possible.

A story to recollect in vivid detail some other time.

Right now, he had a call to pick up.

Hoping it wasn’t Phichit calling for a chat (or some kind of emergency) he slid his thumb over the screen, answering the call on its final ring. He hadn’t bothered glancing at the number, and when a voice spoke on the other line, it took him a moment to identify it. “Officer Sato-san?” He whispered into the phone, after the man had given a mandatory hello. “Is there something wrong, sir?” It may have seemed odd for someone like him to have a police officer in his contacts, but the old man was a good patron of the inn, and Yuuri had done some chores for him as a boy. Still, it was downright _bizarre_ the man was calling him at this time…

 _“I’m afraid I have a stray kitten of yours, Yuuri-kun.”_ The man’s voice rumbled through the speaker. _“By the name of Plisetsky.”_

Yuuri winced at the poor pronunciation, and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Like he’d performed poorly or felt guilty for overeating. He’d known Yuri had run off, but he hadn’t thought the young boy would get himself into _trouble._ Especially with the law. That kind of behaviour could have serious ramifications…

_I should wake up Victor._

He thought numbly.

_“…Yuuri-kun?”_

“Yes.” Yuuri responded instantly. “I see. I, um, yes.”

_Real articulate._

He inwardly chided himself, taking a calming breath to compose himself better. “Yes.” He repeated, with much less panic. “I am familiar with that boy. May I ask why he has found himself in the custody of the police?”

_“It is nothing serious. He was just caught out past curfew, loitering near a bus shelter. He insisted I call you, his **Kaasan.** ”_

There was bemused confusion in the man’s voice, and Yuuri grimaced.

_That kid…he’s got some nerve…_

Yuuri forced out an awkward sounding laugh. It sounded strangled. “Ha. That kid. He’s got a funny sense of humour.”

_“Why does he call you Kaasan?”_

“I…don’t really know.” Yuuri said lamely.

_Some poor dig at Victor being his father, no doubt._

It wasn’t an answer he could exactly give.

 _“I see.”_ Was the eventual response. _“Well, Plisetsky-kun is currently at the station. I assume you will come and collect him? I would deliver him in person, but I’m still on the clock…_ ”

“There will be no need.” Yuuri assured quickly. “I’ll come at once. Thanks for calling, Sato-san.”

_“It is no problem, Yuuri-kun. Just please keep an eye on your…son in the future.”_

Yuuri gaped as the policeman hung up, and felt Victor rustling beside him. The warmth was so pleasant, he felt tempted to go back to sleep and ignore Yuri altogether. But…

_I wasn’t raised that way. To ignore a child in need._

So, with a prayer for this debacle to ultimately end smoothly, he shook one of Victor’s broad shoulders. The muscle was defined beneath his hands, and he could vaguely distinguish the scratch marks he’d left, trailing down Victor’s back. “Victor,” He started softly, and shook harder when the man merely mumbled something and tried to turn away. “Victor!” He said, more insistently.

_I wonder…_

Yuuri leant down, and whispered in Victor’s ear. “I need you, _**Daddy.”**_

Victor moaned at this, eyes opening to reveal crystalline orbs. “Yuuri,” He grumbled. “What is it, my little piggy?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.” He semi-snapped, before continuing. “I just got a phone call from the police station. They have Yurio.”

“What?” Victor growled, jerking up immediately. The sheets fell down to his hips, and Yuuri eyed his masculine form with dulled appreciation.

“Yes.” Yuuri confirmed tiredly. “Apparently he was found at a bus shelter. I was called to pick him up.”

Fleetingly, Yuuri thought he saw a wounded expression flicker over Victor’s face. “Why did he call you?” The man managed to ask without any hint of jealousy. For some reason, it seemed he felt obligated to be Yuri’s main contact in such circumstances. “Was he committing some act of vandalism?”

“He’s just breaching curfew.” Yuuri informed, much to the Russian man’s apparent relief. “We need to pick him up before he gets in more trouble.”

Victor frowned, muttering something dark in Russian, before switching back to Japanese. “Perhaps he should be put in a cell overnight. That would teach him a lesson for running away so childishly.”

Such harshness was something Yuuri did not associate with Victor, and he felt taken-aback by its appearance. “He is a child.” He reminded.

_I never thought I’d be defending Yuri like this._

But, as rude and foul-tempered as the Russian Yuri was, he was _**still**_ a child. A child with no boundaries and with no true supervision. It was only natural he act out, especially after he’d seen what he’d seen.

“Victor,” Yuuri sighed, when the man clenched his jaw in clear frustration. “He _**is** _ your son. You can’t abandon him. And even if you decide to,” He took a deep breath, preparing for an adverse reaction. “ _ **I** _ can’t. He’s just a little boy. Little boys make mistakes.”

“ _You’re_ my little boy.” Victor said huskily, grasping Yuuri’s hand tightly. He brought it to his lips, and kissed the knuckles tenderly.

Yuuri couldn’t hold back a shiver at the sweet ministrations. “T-that’s different,” He said firmly, unable to stop the slight stutter. “And you know it.”

Victor _did_ know it. It was evident in the way his grip turned lax, and how he sighed in a world-weary manner. “I never wanted a son.”

“I know.” Yuuri said diplomatically. “B-but, you have one now.”

Heaving another sigh, Victor slid from the bed, disrupting his snoozing dog, which peered at him with disgruntlement. “He’s in trouble.” Victor decided, uncharacteristically sober. “Even if he wasn’t my son, he’d be in trouble.”

“Father’s offer consequences?” Yuuri said lamely, more questioning than certain. He’d always been an exceptionally well-behaved boy.

Victor’s eyes sparked at this. “Indeed they do, Yuuri. I fully intend on punishing you for waking me up once I’ve dealt with that little brat.”

Yuuri swallowed at this, a surge of heat rushing downwards at the erotic threat. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” He said softly.

“Oh you will be, _moy sladkiy_ (my sweet).” Victor practically crooned. “For now though, let's deal with Plisetsky. We don’t want him getting into more trouble.”

Yuuri exhaled a loud breath, willing himself to cool down. “Oh, and about Yuri,” He said sheepishly as Victor slid from the bed. “He called me Kaasan.”

It took Victor a few seconds to place the word in his groggy state, and when he did, his jaw dropped. “He called you _**what?”**_

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! (Please) Review if you would like, as it inspires me to keep going. Also, a capitalized THANK YOU to everyone who last reviewed and who left Kudos. You guys are awesome!


	3. Well you built up a world of magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri looked much younger than his thirteen years when he slept. 
> 
> The heavy scowl, always so burdensome on his youthful face, was replaced by content peace, and his blond hair fell in soft waves around him. 
> 
> He looked like an adorable cherub, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel his heart melt. “Aw.” He couldn’t stop himself from cooing. “He looks like a toddler.”
> 
> Victor winced. “Nyet. He was a demon toddler.”
> 
> Yuuri raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You knew him as a toddler?”
> 
> Victor appeared affronted. “Of course. He is my son.”
> 
> Yuuri felt rather curious, to know what Yuri was like before he became a foul-mouthed teen. “What…was he like?”
> 
> ALSO
> 
> He wasn’t a fool. He knew he’d treated Yuri bad. He knew he’d made mistakes. He knew that the petulant boy was just screaming for attention, but…
> 
> What about him? What about when he tried to hug his son and Yuri turned away? What about when Yuri would ignore him on his visits? Even as a young child, Yuri had distanced himself despite Victor’s efforts. 
> 
> So he stopped. He stopped, and he did it when Yuri was beginning to remember. 
> 
> And then Yuri didn’t have anything to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So, I just finished watching Episode 9 of YOI, and it keeps getting better and better! I absolutely love all of the characterization that is taking place. Especially with Yurio. 
> 
> I was so surprised to receive as many reviews as I did on the last chapter, and they really helped me keep writing this, so thanks for everyone who left a review or Kudos. Your feedback helps me shape the story. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

The police station was a little cold, but Yuri did not shiver underneath the ratty blanket he had been provided with. He’d grown up in Russia, after all, a country famed for its brisk temperatures and snow. Japan’s climate was nothing for him.

Still, he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably. His bravado from earlier had vanished, and he was weary of what consequences would befall his audacity. Not only had he been apprehended by the police for loitering, he’d also behaved in a spiteful manner towards Yuuri and Victor, which was sure to result in him flying back to Russia as soon as possible, to a harsh lecture from Yakov. He _really_ wasn’t in the mind-frame for that. Yuri naturally had a rebellious spirit, and when complicated matters arose, it only intensified. It was his unique way of dealing with difficult circumstances. A coping mechanism to protect himself.

He’d certainly need protecting. He half expected Victor to strike him for his misbehaviour. He’d been close to doing it before, after all. And Yuuri…

The Japanese male may have been a spineless, cry-baby coward, but Yuri had shown some nerve interrupting his sleep merely to be vindictive about the man’s relationship with Victor.

Yuri heaved a sigh, tired. Honestly, he just wanted to return to the inn and sleep. Even if it was on the floor. He was positively exhausted, and his small body drooped with the effort of staying awake. The police officer had wandered off some time ago, no doubt to attend to some paperwork.

_I just want to…sleep…_

 

* * *

 

 

Eyelids fluttered closed, and Yuri promised himself he’d only rest for a moment.

Yuuri and Victor had dressed in a flurry of movement, eager to fetch Yuri and bring him back to the inn before the mischievous youth got into any more trouble. Or worse, before the media found out he’d been taken into custody by the police. Even if his crime was something rather inconsequential like loitering, it was still bad for his career. The last thing they needed was some kind of scandal to deal with, especially at such a crucial training point for Yuuri.

“Stay.” Victor ordered Makkachin, as the dog excitedly pranced towards the door. Clearly, the bouncy dog expected to be brought along.

With a small whine, Makkachin did as instructed, flopping onto the floor with a dejected look. Yuuri spent a short moment petting the poodle’s well-groomed ears, before stepping outside the door Victor was holding open. It clicked shut softly, and Yuuri locked it carefully. He had his own key for the entrance, which was kept locked at night. Their town didn’t have a reputation for burglary, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

A taxi sat waiting patiently outside, the driver peering out the window curiously. After all, it wasn’t often taxis were required so late in such a small town.

The pair had called for one as soon as they’d decided to get Yuri together, and due to the pair staying in an inn, a taxi had been nearby anyhow.

Victor grasped Yuuri’s hand, the warmth comforting to the pair. It was a reassuring action, but Yuuri didn’t know if it was supposed to be reassuring to him, or reassuring to Victor. It must have been nerve-wracking for the man, to known his son was at the police station.

“I’m sorry about this, Yuuri,” Victor apologised softly, as they walked to the stalled car. “I never meant for you to get dragged into this.”

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand, weighing his response. “It’s the least I could do, after everything you’ve done for me.”

Victor gave a small smile at this, and, being the flamboyant man he was, opened the taxi door in a gentlemanly manner. Yuuri slid in with a slight blush, still unaccustomed to being treated so finely by the other man. To hide his red cheeks, he busied himself with his seatbelt, buckling it into place as the driver greeted them in rapid Japanese.

The car held the faint scent of tobacco, and Yuuri heard Victor muttering something about getting a rental car as soon as possible.

“The police station.” Yuuri requested. The taxi driver hummed in acknowledgement, and the car left the curb with a thrum of the engine. Yuuri was glad when the man didn’t question their choice of venue for the late hour.

“You didn’t give an address.” Victor pointed out, re-grasping their briefly separated hands.

Yuuri gave a short laugh. “There’s only one police station here. This isn’t like Russia.”

Victor hummed, and his other hand came to grasp at Yuuri’s knee, trailing patterns up and down the hemline of his pants. “I like it here.” He admitted in a husky tone. “It’s quiet, da? Lots of privacy for the two of us.”

Yuuri refrained from pointing out the irony of his words, considering the man was applying his ministrations in the company of their taxi driver. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to know who they were, and if he did recognise them, he was keeping quiet about it.

The rest of the car trip was in silence, and Yuuri could sense Victor gradually growing tenser. The grip on Yuuri’s hand had tightened, and his teasing eyes had turned hard. It was clear he was preparing for some kind of battle.

_Why?_

Yuuri thought with exasperation.

_Why doesn’t he just take a diplomatic approach? The same way he does with me?_

To say Yuuri was befuddled was an understatement. Victor had always been so charming and chivalrous. Sure, he was a little eccentric (strongly evidenced in his interest in him) but he’d never been cruel before. At least not in the way he’d been with Yuri. What was causing all of that friction between the pair? Why couldn’t they at least _try_ to get along?

Yuuri pondered this for the rest of their drive, and pasted on a pleasant smile upon their arrival. _Someone_ had to be the mediator here. Honestly, it was a role he’d never dreamed he’d play for Yurio, that spirited kid with the scary snarl…

“You should try and stay calm.” Yuuri encouraged.

_Huh. For once **I’m** being the coach. It feels weird._

Victor seemed a little irritated at this, but hid it well. “Of course, dorogaya. I can deal with Yuri’s misbehaviour in the privacy of the inn.” He clenched his jaw. “I won’t let that little brat cause a scene here.”

“Just stay calm.” Yuuri repeated, feeling like his words hadn’t sunken in properly. “Don’t challenge him.”

_I know how competitive Yuri is. He’ll respond to a challenge with fight._

Without further ado, the two practically marched to the station. The doors slid open upon sensing them, and Yuuri approached the woman behind the counter. She seemed well-weathered by the job, not an inch of drowsiness upon her expressionless face. This changed, however, when she saw Yuuri. “Katsuki-kun,” She greeted with delight. “How lovely it is to see you. I watched your performance at the Grand Prix, you know.”

Yuuri inwardly groaned, his face flushing with shame at the reminder of his poor performance. “Uh, thanks.”

Sensing Yuuri’s disappointment, Victor interjected with a grin. “From now on you will be seeing a new side to Yuuri!” He practically chirped, wrapping a firm arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “As his coach, I can promise you. Please continue to support him!”

“Of course.” The woman said, endeared by Victor’s enthusiasm. “We’ll always support Yuuri. He’s the most accomplished thing to ever come out of this place. And such a sweet boy, as well.”

“I know.” Victor agreed wholeheartedly, but Yuuri sensed the slight seduction in his tone. “Yuuri is a _very_ sweet boy.”

The woman blinked, and Yuuri hastily interjected. “Is Sato-san here?” He blurted, subtly treading on Victor’s foot as the older male snickered.

“He’s just responding to a distress call.” The woman said. “Apparently a fisherman decided to go out extra early and got into a little bit of trouble. But…” She trailed off, and filtered through some papers, handing Yuuri a small note. “He left this for you. He said you can take your lost little kitten, also.”

Yuuri nodded, and scanned the short note, which read in neat Kanji.

_Yuuri,_

_Plisetsky-kun is sleeping inside the office. Please take him home and ensure he gets some rest, and a talking-to wouldn’t go astray, either. I will let him off with a warning, this time. I know the last thing you and your new coach want is bad publicity._

_Although I would suggest Nikiforov watch over his son more diligently._

“Yuuri? What does it say?” Victor inquired with interest, as Yuuri gaped at the note inelegantly.

Before the man could see, Yuuri scrunched it up, shoving it in his pocket to be disposed of later. The last thing he wanted was Victor to worry everyone knew his secret.

_Sato-san has always been intuitive. I’m sure he won’t tell anyone…_

Still, it was best not to stress Victor out any further.

“We can take Yurio home.” Yuuri responded, parroting the woman’s earlier sentiment. “He’s sleeping in the office.”

_He must have been exhausted, to fall asleep in this kind of environment._

“Before you go,” The woman said. “Would you mind signing your autograph? My daughter is a big fan of yours!”

“Of course.” Victor agreed smoothly.

“Oh, I guess you too, Victor-san.” She said sheepishly, and Victor realised the woman hadn’t been asking for his autograph.

It was a little embarrassing, but also very exciting. Yuuri was already gaining his own fans.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri looked much younger than his thirteen years when he slept.

The heavy scowl, always so burdensome on his youthful face, was replaced by content peace, and his blond hair fell in soft waves around him.

He looked like an adorable cherub, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel his heart melt. “Aw.” He couldn’t stop himself from cooing. “He looks like a toddler.”

Victor winced. “Nyet. He was a demon toddler.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You knew him as a toddler?”

Victor appeared affronted. “Of course. He is my son.”

_Then why don’t you treat him as such?_

Yuuri wisely refrained from voicing that thought. He felt rather curious, to know what Yuri was like before he became a foul-mouthed teen. “What…was he like?”

Victor sighed, and there was a silence. Yuuri was preparing to awkwardly change the subject, when the man spoke with clear reluctance. “Full of energy.” He said. “Full of life. Still with a foul temper though. _Moy Bog_ , he had a temper. His tantrums still give me nightmares.”

Yuuri smiled, the vision of an exasperated Victor and stubborn toddler Yuuri very amusing. “Did you live with him for a while?”

Seconds later, Yuuri realised how idiotic his question was.

_Of **course** he didn’t. Victor was only a young teenager when Yuri was born. He would have still been completing his schooling._

Thankfully, Victor didn’t point out his stupidity. “Nyet. When the mother was with child, she moved home from her boarding school to live with her parents. I visited sometimes, but…” His face curled bitterly here. “He was always so attached to his _dedushka_ , and I had other things to worry about.”

_I always knew Yuri was attached to his grandfather, but did that make Victor…jealous?_

It seemed almost absurd. Yuuri couldn’t picture Victor being jealous of _anything_. Yet, the way his face had twisted when speaking about Yuri and his grandfather…

It was an expression he’d never seen before.

And he was grateful.

He wanted to know _everything_ about Victor. Whether it was good, or bad. It was the only way their relationship could progress from shallow waters to something deeper.

“We should wake him.” Victor said determinedly, all traces of his prior emotions gone.

_He looks so peaceful, though…_

Yuuri would loath to disrupt that peaceful face. “Carry him?” His words came out more as a question than a command. “He’ll probably be annoyed if we wake him.” When Victor stood motionless, unresponsive, he continued. “He doesn’t look heavy, I could-“

Immediately, Victor swooped down, gathering the slumbering Yuri in his arms and cradling him carefully. The blanket was still wrapped around the small boy, and it was a rather humorous sight, like Yuri was still a baby. It was also _extremely_ -

_**Cute.** Otosan Victor is strangely sweet._

A different sweet than what they shared between the sheets.

Familial.

Yuuri felt blessed to see this side of Victor, and hoped he got to see it more often.

“ _Blyad… (Fuck)_ …” Victor breathed, eyes wide with some indistinguishable emotion.

Yuuri thought it may have been fear. “Have you…” Yuuri took a deep breath, anxious to be asking this question. “Never held him? Even as an infant?”

“I held him.” Victor answered, bordering on curt. “But he always squirmed. He only stilled when I…” His pale cheeks flushed faintly.

“When you…” Yuuri coaxed interestedly.

Victor’s skin turned a little pinker. “He liked when I sung to him.” He admitted grudgingly.

**_Cuter._ **

Sensing Victor’s embarrassment (although Yuuri didn’t know why the usually shameless man felt abashed over something so simple) Yuuri turned in the direction of the exit. “Let’s get him home.” He said decidedly. “Before Kaasan wakes up and realises we’re missing.” Or worse, his sister. The girl would probably screech the whole building down.

“Da.” Victor had recovered, and was grinning easily once more. He kept his eyes on Yuuri, avoiding the weight in his arms. Ignoring his son as much as possible. “Lets.”

 

* * *

 

 

The driver only spared a slightly curious look at the bundled Yuri, before lighting a cigarette and turning up his radio. The nicotine contributed to the strange odour of the taxi, and Yuuri yearned for the fresh air of outside.

Victor must have felt similar, for he lowered his window a fraction, waving his hand to disperse the smoke that hovered around Yuri, who laid unbuckled in his lap. “ _Ne khorosho dlya yego legkikh_ (Not good for his lungs).”

It was a caring gesture, and Yuuri perked up. _This_ was the kind Victor he knew. “I almost want to take a photo.” Yuuri spoke up in amused admittance. “Yurio looks so innocent now. It makes me want to document the moment.”

“You could put it on Instagram.” Victor indulged, with a wry smile. “He looks such the _mladenets_ (babe), it would embarrass him immensely. Teach him a lesson.”

Yuuri’s smile widened. Victor was acting like an embarrassing father! It was such a normal, healthy act!

“All he’s missing is his _kitti_.”

“Kitti?” Yuuri repeated questioningly.

“Da. I gave him a stuffed cat when he was born. He loved it.”

_Mustn’t explode from the cuteness…_

“I wonder if he still has it.”

“I doubt it. He probably threw it away years ago. It would only be a reminder that his father doesn’t care enough to stick around.”

The proud feeling in Yuuri’s chest abruptly evaporated in a cruel gust. “But,” He protested instantly. “You _**do**_ care. I know you do.”

“I care about ** _you_**.” Victor returned, shameless. “I care about you winning the Grand Prix, and I care about _**our**_ relationship. There is no room for _rebenok_ (child) here, Yuuri. Not if you want to succeed in winning the Grand Prix.”

It was a truly sobering statement, and it served in silencing Yuuri, and making his heart ache terribly. So caught up in the melodrama, he’d forgotten how this development would affect his progress. He had to devote all of his attention to Victor’s coaching and his routines, lest he become unfocused and sloppy. He couldn’t afford any distractions. Not if he wanted to win.

Unbidden, tears raised in his eyes, and he directed his gaze outside stubbornly. He’d always been sensitive and prone to crying, but if Yurio didn’t cry, then neither would he. Yurio was the _real_ victim in this circumstance. Growing up without the love of a father, and even _worse_ , said father had still been somewhat present in his life the whole time. Tantalising the boy with a relationship he could never have.

It wasn’t _ **fair.**_

This was a childish thought, but Yuuri felt this wholeheartedly. He truly _**felt** _ for Yurio, and it was bringing up all kinds of instincts and emotions.

_To think, I’d been overlooking my privilege this whole time. I’ve always had a family to support and comfort me. Yurio only had his grandparents._

Yuuri agonised over this for the rest of the car trip, and felt numb when they finally returned. This time, he opened the door for himself, and led the way to the inn’s entrance. Luckily, the door was still locked. A sign that their leaving hadn’t disturbed anyone.

Well, asides from Makkachin, who bounded forward upon their entrance, and nearly knocked Yuuri clear to the ground. He gave an excited yip, and Yuuri habitually leant down to pet his soft head. “It’s okay, boy.” He assured quietly.

The dog looked to Victor, and the man attempted to stroke him, before remembering the burden in his arms. Yuri stirred at the sudden movement, but his breathing deepened a moment later. Clearly he could sleep through a lot.

_Or he’s just that tired._

“Let’s put him in your bed.” Yuuri said, when Victor headed in the direction of Yuri’s lodgings. “It’ll be colder on the floor, and the mattress will be more comfortable for him.”

_That and I’m sure he’ll appreciate waking up somewhere nicer._

“Kaasan indeed.” Victor murmured, and Yuuri shot him an annoyed look. “Where do you suggest I sleep, then? In your bed?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I guess. Unless you sleep next to him…”

Victor twisted his face, not keen on the idea.

_I guess not._

“I want to sleep next to you.” Victor rebutted, a pout on his handsome features.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He was tired, and didn’t want to bicker anymore. He needed rest to process all of this craziness. Then he’d go to the rink, and skate for a while to clear his head and ease his nerves.

_I could really go for a pork cutlet bowl right now…_

Alas, Victor had forbidden him from eating his favourite dish until he started winning competitions. A term he had agreed to.

At Yuuri’s permission, Victor took Yuri into his room, and put him on the bed, not bothering with the covers. Whatever fatherly mood he was in before, had vanished completely now.

Yuuri couldn’t stand to see Yurio like that, and did what Victor wouldn’t, tucking Yuri into the bed and raising the blankets to his chin. He left the lamp on a soft setting, in case the boy woke up in the dark and panicked in unfamiliar surroundings. Struck by some strange instinct, he even brushed the boy’s blond strands from his face.

Victor watched all of this with an unreadable expression, and sighed tiredly when Yuuri stepped back. He grasped his hand once more, and led him out of the room and down the hallway. They kept their footsteps light on the aged floorboards, and practically collapsed onto Yuuri’s untouched bed upon arrival. Yuuri had been sleeping with Victor commonly, giving the excuse that the two spent time discussing routines into the evening. Yuuri told everyone it was _easier_ that way. When in reality, there was nothing _easy_ about what they really did in Victor’s room at night. Nevertheless, it was an experience Yuuri wanted to relive over and over.

“Thank you for assisting me this morning.” Victor said, rolling onto his side and tucking Yuuri under his arm. “I don’t know what I would have done without you…”

Yuuri’s heart felt warm at the gratitude. “It’s fine.” He said sincerely.

“You’re a good boy, Yuuri.”

The praise sent a shiver down Yuuri’s spine, and even now, he felt his cheeks warm. However, he knew he needed rest. There was plenty of time to be pampered by Victor. Or, alternatively, punished. Yuuri didn’t know which one he liked better…

_Punishment._

The word reminded Yuuri of Victor’s words from earlier. Of the man’s promise that Yurio would be punished. How would a Russian father like Victor punish his son? Surely it wouldn’t be physical discipline, would it? Yurio was so delicate…

_This is laughable. I’m fretting like some Kaasan._

And with that final thought, Yuuri allowed himself to drift off.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor watched the even rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest, feeling it expand and flatten against his own body. The Japanese skater had drifted off some time ago, but sleep was eluding him. His mind was preoccupied with stressful thoughts, most of them regarding the rebellious teen currently occupied in _his_ bed.

He knew Yuri had breached curfew in the past. Had heard Yakov complain about it before. Hell, he’d even laughed once upon hearing a tale about his slippery son sneaking off to a zoo for a night viewing instead of getting rest.

(“The big cats are awake at night!”) He knew Yuri had said as an excuse. (“They mostly sleep during the day.”)

He himself was even guilty of doing the same thing once or twice, when he found himself needing space from his coach and the other skaters. He’d never been caught though, and he’d never done it in such a rebellious manner. Even when apprehended, his son was always so unabashed, uncaring of consequences and utterly unapologetic. He thought he could handle himself out there, since he’d been doing that for most of his life.

And it was fine. Victor hadn’t had to worry about it. That was what Yakov was for. The old man would set Yuri straight. Or, at least _try._ Yuri had always been stubborn.

But Yakov wasn’t here now to deal with Yuri’s misbehaviour. Victor was. A role he’d never truly played around the child. Even when Yuri was still small (well, smaller) the boy would never take him seriously when he scolded him.

( _“Yuri, uspokoysya. My naydem svoyu koshechku.”_ Yuri, calm down we’ll find your kitty.)

(“ _Yuri, brosaya pishchu kapriznichayet.”_ Yuri, throwing food is naughty.)

( _“Yuri…”_ )

_**Why won’t you let Papa hug you?** _

Huffing with irritation, Victor clenched his jaw to prevent letting out a growl. Thinking about these things now was only detrimental. But...

_What was I supposed to do? I was only a child myself. How can anyone expect a child to raise another child?_

He wasn’t a fool. He knew he’d treated Yuri bad. He knew he’d made mistakes. He knew that the petulant boy was just screaming for attention, but…

_He abhors me, yet wants my affection. It’s contradictory._

And what about him? What about when _he_ tried to hug his son and Yuri turned away? What about when Yuri would ignore him on his visits? Even as a young child, Yuri had distanced himself despite Victor’s efforts.

So he stopped. He stopped, and he did it when Yuri was beginning to remember.

And then Yuri didn’t have anything to remember.

Because Victor stopped trying to be there.

What was the point, he thought? He couldn’t be a father. Yuri was better off without him…

Except Yuri wanted to _be_ like him. An ice skater. There was no way he could avoid the boy. The boy with the scowl and the disappointed eyes. The boy who deserved better…

But was never going to get that. It was too late for Victor to change. He had to focus on Yuuri. He couldn’t rekindle a parental relationship whilst coaching full-time. It was impossible. Not to mention, it would be far from easy.

Just like the punishment Victor had decided upon.

With a sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

_After this, Yuri is never going to want to see me again._

It would be for the best.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuri woke up, the sun was filtering through drawn curtains, and he was resting on a comfortable mattress, head tucked onto a pillow. It was an uncommon experience. Typically he was up early, going through his exercises, or doing schoolwork. His alarm clock always woke him…

But not today, and he was treated to the serene experience. He felt incredibly relaxed. Warm, soft, content…

Until he remembered where he was, and realised how he must have gotten there.

Yuri jerked up in bed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. The last he could remember, he was resting his eyes at the station, then…

_Nothing. Which means Victor or that Japanese pig must have carried me here. Like some baby._

Needless to say, Yuri’s pride stung. He was supposed to be an _adult_. A fierce adult. An adult who certainly didn’t need to be carried around like an infant. He could only hope there were no other witnesses to the incident. He had a reputation to maintain. If it lost some of those fangirls, however…

_No. All of the other skaters would make fun of me. Then I’d have to punch them._

More pressing then his dignity though, was the matter of consequences. He knew there had to be some. He’d been at the police station, for crying out loud. Sure, he hadn’t committed a real crime, but it wasn’t exactly the model behaviour expected from an ice skater of his rank. They may have called him a ‘punk’, but any real problematic behaviour would mean penalties. Or, he shuddered, even _exclusion_. Surely _that_ wouldn’t happen though. Exclusion was so extreme, and sitting out of competitions was horrible for skaters. Competing meant gaining experience, and experience was important in sports.

_Victor will probably give me a lecture. Or a slap. Whatever._

Feeling a pressing need in his bladder, Yuri slid out of bed onto the floorboards. His shoes had been removed, but his socks remained, keeping his feet toasty. He’d been shown some of the bathrooms yesterday, and knew there was one nearby.

Treading with a trained grace, Yuri left the silent room, stalking down the hallway and entering a clean bathroom. He shut the door, and undid the zipper to his jeans.

_I need to piss so goddamned bad. All that water the policeman gave me…_

He let out a sigh as he relieved himself, and was just tucking himself back in when the door opened suddenly. Immediately, he let out a rather girlish squeal, and glared at the intruder.

Which happened to be Victor, who stared at him with a stoic expression. He was already dressed for the day, and Yuri realised he must have slept in longer than he’d first assumed.

In complete shock (and embarrassment) Yuri shouted “PAPA! GET OUT!” He turned away hurriedly. He’d always been a rather shy boy, evidenced in his reluctance to bath in a public place. Unlike his father, who loved the opportunity to get naked…

 _“Nichego ya ne videl ran'she, Yuri._ (It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Yuri.”) Victor said in smooth Russian, ignoring Yuri’s slip of the word ‘papa’ for the time being. It was clear he was surprised though, from the slight widening of his eyes. _“Vy kogda-nibud' spal. Osvezhit' i vernut'sya v komnatu. Mne nuzhno obsudit' chto-to vazhnoye s vami.”_ (You’ve been sleeping sometime. Freshen up and return to the room. I need to discuss something important with you.”)

“ _Prosto vyyti!”_ (“Just get out!”) Yuri snapped. He heard Victor sigh, and turned around when he heard the door click firmly shut. Grumbling about the lack of privacy, he flushed the toilet and washed his hands, inwardly dying with embarrassment over calling _Victor_ ‘Papa’. Sure, he was his biological father, but it was still humiliating…

Taking the man’s advice, he splashed his face, using the refreshing water to rub away the remainder of sleep. When he felt fully awake (and had cooled his flaming cheeks) he stomped from the bathroom, taking a steeling breath before re-entering the bedroom. As he had said, Victor was waiting, standing with crossed arms. It was a serious posture for the man, and Yuri’s stomach instantly sunk. Even worse, Yuuri wasn’t around, which meant the man had no inclination to be soft on him…

_Don’t be a coward. I’m not that Japanese pig._

Yuri jutted his chin up, unrepentant. “ _Vy khoteli pogovorit'_ ,” (“You wanted to talk,”) He maintained their Russian. It was their home language, after all, and there was no one else around to get confused. “ _Tak chto govorit', Viktor. I sdelat' eto bystro._ ” (“So talk, Victor. And make it quick.”)

Victor shook his head, with a disbelieving smile. _“Vy nepokornykh parshivets. Vy na samom dele ne imeyut nikakogo uvazheniya k komu-libo, ne tak li?_ ” (“You recalcitrant brat. You really have no respect for anyone, do you?”)

“ _U menya yest' mnogo uvazheniya. Tol'ko ne dlya vas?_ ” (“I have plenty of respect. Just not for you.”) Yuri sneered. “ _Ladit' s ney. Perekhodya snova orat' na menya? Skazhi mne, chto nikto ne khotel menya? Khlopnut' menya? Preuspevat'. Sdelayte eto, poka vash yebat' ne vokrug._ ”(“Get on with it. Going to yell at me again? Tell me no one wanted me? Slap me? Go ahead. Do it whilst your fuck isn’t around.”)

“ _Sledi za yazykom-_ “ (“Watch your language-“)

Yuri gave a cold laugh. “ _Vy ne govorite mne, chto delat', Viktor. U vas net etogo prava_.”(“You do not tell me what to do, Victor. You don’t have that right.”)

Victor’s face darkened. “ _U menya yest' eto pravo, i ya nameren yego ispol'zovat'. YA ispol'zoval yego_.” (“I do have that right, and I intend to use it. I _**have**_ used it.”)

Yuri’s stomach flopped unpleasantly. That sounded kind of ominous…

“ _Vash detski tryukom proshloy noch'yu bylo sovershenno nepriyemlemo. Besshabashnyy, glupo, i opasno. Figuristkoy ili net, malen'kiy mal'chik, vash vozrast ne dolzhen byt', chto pozdne-_ " (“Your childish stunt last night was completely unacceptable. Reckless, stupid, _**and** _ dangerous. Ice skater or not, a little boy your age shouldn’t be out that late-“)

“ _YA delal eto ran'she!”_ (“I’ve done it before!”)

“ _Da, u vas yest', i vy poluchili vmeste s nim! Eto zastavlyayet vas dumat', chto vy mozhete sdelat' vse, chto vy khotite. Polety v strany, ne imeyushchiye ni slova nikomu, otkazavshis' ot vashego coach-_ “ (“Da, you have, and you’ve gotten away with it! This makes you think you can do whatever you want. Flying to countries without a word to anyone, abandoning your coach-“)

“ _Yakov understands_ -“

" _Nyet. On ne delayet. No on delayet seychas._ " (“Nyet. He doesn’t. But he does now.” )

Yuri felt cold dread wash over him. The way Victor was talking…

**_No. He wouldn’t._ **

" _U menya byl odin iz advokatov govorit' s nim o svoyem proiskhozhdenii._ " Victor explained firmly. " _On podpisal NDA posle etogo_." (“I had one of the lawyers speak with him about your parentage. He signed the NDA afterwards.”)

Yuri gulped. “ _A takzhe?_ ” (“And?”) He tried for defiant, but his voice came out weak.

 _"Ty sidish' v etom sezone. Vy mozhete sorevnovat'sya snova v sleduyushchem godu, kogda vyrastesh'. YA ne budu u vas pod ugrozu moyey trenerskoy s Yuri. Eto mozhet byt' yego posledniy konkurs. U menya net vremeni dlya vas, i ya ne khochu, chtoby ty otvlekaya yego, libo. Yakov skazal, chto vy mozhete potratit' ostal'nuyu chast' etogo sezona trenirovki s yego byvshey zhenoy._ ” **_(“You’re_** sitting out this season. You can compete again next year when you _**grow up**_. I won’t have you jeopardising my coaching with Yuuri. This could be his last competition. I don’t have time for you, and I don’t want you distracting him, either. Yakov said you can spend the rest of this season training with his ex-wife.”) Victor sighed at Yuri’s look of horror. “ _Ty khoroshiy figurist, Yuriy. Praktika trudno, i vy, bezuslovno, vyigrat' zoloto v sleduyushchem godu._ ” (“You’re a good skater, Yuri. Practice hard and you’ll surely win gold next year.”)

Yuri felt sick. Was this some kind of terrible nightmare? “ _B-no, Yakov nikogda ne budet-_ “ (“B-but, Yakov would _**never**_ -“)

“ _U menya yest' roditel'skiye prava. Resheniye v konechnom schete moya. Vashe imya budet snyata, i vy budete ostavat'sya v Moskve._ ” (“I have parental rights. The decision is ultimately mine. Your name will be withdrawn, and you’ll stay in Moscow.”)

Yuri looked to the ground, and Victor’s voice turned dull.

_I’ve been practicing so hard, this **can’t** be happening…_

“- _oy, yesli ty khoroshiy mal'chik, ya dam vam smotret' Yuuri konkurirovat' v finale. Vy dazhe mozhete sidet' so mnoy._ ” (“-nd if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you watch Yuuri compete at the finals. You can even sit with me.”)

Yuri gave an icy laugh, full of bitterness. His eyes stung, and white hot rage burned behind the clouded orbs. “Bribery?” He switched back to Japanese. Russian felt too intimate. “Are you kidding me? You want to ruin my life-“

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Victor cut in. “It is one season. Many skaters have injuries and recover perfectly well after a season.”

“Only because they have no other choice-“

“You have no other choice. It has been decided.” Victor said with finality. “Pack your bags. You’re getting a flight back to Moscow tomorrow.” That said, he strode to the door.

“ _ **I hate you**_.” Yuri hissed with utter detestation.

Victor didn’t even pause. “I know.”

And then he left.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri panted as he completed his routine, skating across the ice and stepping off of the rink. He’d been in the building for some time now, leaving before Victor was awake. He’d needed some time to think, and ice skating always offered him that. It was an outlet for him, just like eating, and since he was supposed to stay in perfect shape…

No comfort eating.

If anyone needed the comfort eating, it was Yuri. The boy was so skinny, he needed to eat more…

_**No.** The Kaasan thoughts are taking over._

Shaking his head at the absurdity, he went to the locker room, collapsing down to unlace his skates. The blades were a little blunt, he’d have to have them sharpened…

_I bet he needs a proper breakfast after the night he had…_

_**No.** _

Yuuri huffed in frustration, pushing back a strand of sweaty hair. Ever since learning of Yuri’s parentage, he couldn’t get the other male out of his head. He wanted to amount it to utter shock, but the truth was…

_I love Victor, and Yuri is a product of Victor. I can’t treat him the same knowing the truth._

Before this, Yuri had just been some cocky punk in need of an attitude adjustment. Now, he was a neglected boy in need of attention and affection. A regular child. Victor’s child.

_I’m in way over my head._

It’s a disparaging thought, but true nonetheless. He wasn’t prepared for this.

One thing was abundantly clear though. Things couldn’t be the same again. Perhaps Yuuri was too soft, but there was no way he could allow Yuri’s life to keep progressing the way it was. It was an invitation for behavioural problems and emotional illnesses. Because yes, Yuri may get medals and accolades, he may be the next Victor, and he may go down in history as one of Russia’s best ice skaters, but he was also a human being. A youthful human being who needed the right nourishment to grow healthily. Like a plant. Because really, what use were medals when you were miserable and alone? Yuri pushed people away compulsively, because he didn’t want to be hurt. Even _Yuuri_ could see that much.

He couldn’t compete forever, and when all of that distraction was gone, what was Yuri Plisetsky _really_?

A boy with an absent father, and a boy without a mother. A boy with an elderly grandfather likely to pass away in the coming years. When that happened, he’d be completely alone.

Could Yuuri let that happen? Could he selfishly discard someone in need because it was _easier_ for him? Because it would be less effort and he’d have Victor all too himself?

Who knows, perhaps he could, to an anonymous child. But Yuri was Victor’s _son_. He was connected to him, and by extension, he was connected to Yuuri. He had a duty to that child. A duty to Victor, because Yuuri knew Yurio wasn’t the only one suffering in their relationship. He’d seen the care in Victor’s eyes when he’d cradled him that morning…

In the end, Victor had had an excuse. He had been a child, not fit to raise a baby, then an adolescent, too busy living his life. Now he was an adult, one approaching his thirties. He’d competed all across the globe, and was even growing bored with the skating lifestyle. So bored that he’d become enthralled with a chubby, depressed stranger. Sure, he had coaching responsibilities, but Yuuri knew they could try and make some kind of arrangement. Try to make something work.

Because, as much as it pained Yuuri to be tough on the man he had idolised and adored, the man he currently _loved_ , Victor didn’t have an excuse anymore.

It was time for him to step up.

And Yuuri had to make sure it happened. For their sake, and for his.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather dramatic end. I know Victor's decision was especially harsh, but I wanted some way to have Yuri stop skating for the year without injuring the smol son. I also hope you gained some insight into why Victor is so mean to poor little Yuri :(
> 
> Will Kaasan Yuuri succeed in bringing them together? Hopefully so. ;)
> 
> A note: The Russian used in this chapter is far from reputable, having come straight from Google translate. 
> 
> Another note: In regards to the Daddy Kink, is the story better with, or without it? If it's a big turn-off for lots of people, I could always turn this into a series and have that sort of smut in individual stories opposed to in this one. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like! No pressure though.
> 
> Have a nice day/night!


	4. Cruel to be kind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s just it!” Yuuri threw his hands up in the air, overwhelmed by all of the drama. Everything had been going so well, and then Yuri had to-
> 
> No. I can’t blame this on Yuri. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later. 
> 
> “You aren’t my father, but you are Yuri’s! This isn’t about me! This is about him!” 
> 
> AND
> 
> “L-O-V-E!” Another spelt, causing the trio to collapse into a fit of giggles. 
> 
> “First comes love!” Axel sang in a teasing voice. “Then comes marriage!” 
> 
> Then comes a kid with lots of baggage. 
> 
> Yuuri thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Takes a deep breath* OOOOOKAAAAY!!!
> 
> Welcome back to this mess of a story! Last chapter I asked what everyone thought of the Daddy Kink, and I'm extremely grateful so many of you not only reviewed, but also told me your thoughts on this issue! It really helped me figure out what direction I want to take with this story, so thanks a bunch! I really respect what every one of you said. :) 
> 
> That established, it seemed the majority of you were in favor of me getting rid of it (for various reasons) so ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE! I'm going to ditch it, but not in a completely sudden way. It will be rational. To anyone who finds this disappointing, I'll probably write a different story with the same kind of kink at some point. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who helped me make this decision! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

* * *

 

 

“You can’t be serious, Yakov.” Mila proclaimed, exasperated. “Are you really going to cut him off just because he took a little trip abroad? That’s insane! He’s one of Russia’s best chances for a gold medal in the junior division!”

Yakov sighed, the wrinkles on his face further emphasised by his exhaustion. “I know, Mila. But Yuri needs to understand that his impulsive actions have consequences.”

Mila snorted, crossing her arms doubtfully. “I don’t believe that for a second. Nikiforov was more of a problem than Yuri ever was. At least Yuri takes skating more seriously.”

At the mention of Victor, Yakov grimaced, and Mila, ever observant, narrowed her eyes. “He went to see Victor, didn’t he?” She presumed sharply, crossing her toned arms. She’d not long vacated the rink from her practice, and had deserted her peers to speak with Yakov about Yuri. His presence hadn’t been overlooked by any of them. They were so accustomed to his bad temper and snarling that it was impossible to forget him. “Come on, Yakov. Even _Georgi_ stopped moping about Anya to ask where Yuri was. I thought coaches were supposed to trust their team.”

“This isn’t a matter of trust, Mila. It’s a matter of privacy.” Yakov responded soberly. “Yuri will not be competing this year. It’s already been decided, and confirmed by the board.” Seeing Mila’s bubbling irritation, he momentarily softened. “I know you all must be disappointed, but this was our best option.”

“Best option for who? For Victor?”

“I am not obligated to discuss-“

“Oh, you don’t have to. This capriciousness has Victor written _all_ over it. So Victor practically forced you to suspend him, and now what? He comes back here, and is forced to watch his teammates perform from the sidelines?”

“He’ll be staying in Moscow to train with Lilia. She’ll teach him ballet to improve his skills.”

“So essentially, you’re dumping Yuri with your ex-wife because of Victor-“

“ _Mila_ -“

“He can’t always have his own way!” Mila said in outburst, causing her rink-mates to glance over curiously. “He’s always doing what he wants.” She went on, quieter. “When he skates, when he doesn’t skate, when he quits without a word to anyone else, and runs off to Japan for _**Yuuri Katsuki**_ , a practical stranger-“

“Mila-“

“Abandoning his rink-mates and long-term coach, an utterly disrespectful-“

“Mila-“

“And Yuri takes one flight to Japan and gets excluded! It’s senseless, Yakov!”

“ _I know_.” Yakov intoned deeply, frustration in the set of his jaw. “But I had no other choice.”

Mila blinked confusedly at this, momentarily startled, before she began piecing things together once more. She’d always had a natural intuition. “Why?” She questioned. “Why didn’t you have any other choice?”

But Yakov merely shook his head with the utmost firmness, unwilling to divulge any details.

“Fine.” Mila said, eyes steely and understanding. “If you can’t talk, then don’t. We can’t afford to lose you as well.” She turned away, stepping easily back onto the ice. “But at the least, don’t let Victor have his complete way. If he wants to stop Yuri from competing, _he_ should be the one responsible for him. Yuri is going to be a major pain in the ass for the rest of the year. You shouldn’t force that on your ex-wife, especially if you want to get back together anytime soon.”

Yakov cocked his head, contemplative, and Mila skated in a small circle, facing her coach completely. “Let Victor have a taste of his own medicine. If he wants to dictate Yuri’s skating life, he should be around for the rest of it as well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to send a picture to Sala.” That said, the young female skated off, re-joining her peers, and initiating a group photo.

Yakov rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. Mila had always been a passionate woman. It was one of her greatest assets. Yet, she was also incredibly intelligent when she applied herself to something other than skating and teasing her friends. Perhaps she was right, in saying that Victor ought to take more responsibility for Yuri…

After all, the young blond _was_ his son.

It was a crippling discovery, but one Yakov felt stupid to overlook. Victor and Yuri had always shared a dismissiveness for his instructions, and the physical resemblance was certainly there…

Yakov sighed. Perhaps he should be the one retiring. Why did he always coach the most difficult of skaters? It only meant he had to make the most difficult of decisions…

 

* * *

 

“Your stamina is impressive,” Victor complimented, as Yuuri completed his routine. The younger skater had been going at it for some time now, with minimal breaks. “On the ice, and off.”

Yuuri, panting and with flushed cheeks, shot Victor a small glare for the comment.

Yuko was watching him perform, with wide-eyes and a proud smile. Her triplets were absent for the meantime, and she was clearly enjoying watching Yuuri without their commentary. “Well done, Yuuri!” She praised, clapping enthusiastically. “You’re really improving so much! Especially considering you haven’t had the routine for long!”

It was true. Victor had been keeping two routines for himself. Agape, and Eros. Ultimately, he’d chosen Eros for Yuuri. Apparently Agape was being saved for someone else…

Regardless, Yuuri was finally performing it at a more accurate level.

“Arigato.” Yuuri said politely, smiling at his childhood friend, and former crush.

“What about me?” Victor pouted theatrically. “Don’t my compliments count?”

Yuko giggled at the sight, but Yuuri gracefully ignored the comment.

Victor had joined him at the rink hours ago, but he hadn’t yet spoken to him about the night previous and what the man planned on doing with Yuri. Honestly, he was procrastinating somewhat. After the conclusion he’d reached…

“Well, I think you’ve earned a longer break,” Yuko chirped. “Why don’t you come into the café area? I’ll make you both some tea. Some lunch wouldn’t go astray either, as long as Yuuri doesn’t overeat…”

“I-it’s fine.” Yuuri interjected, stuttering slightly. “I really should keep practicing.”

“I’ve never known you to turn down an offer for food.” Yuko stated, concern in her voice. “Are you okay, Yuuri? Do you feel sick?”

“No. I just want to keep practicing…”

“You don’t want to overdo it.” Victor interrupted sternly. “You may have great stamina, but too much strain on your body can lead to mistakes and injury. Yuri will be unbearable if you get hurt. He’ll want to compete again, if he knows I’m not coaching you…”

“ ** _Again_**?” Yuuri repeated, sharply. “Victor, what do you mean ‘Again’?”

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Yuko promptly excused herself, using the excuse of making tea to tactfully remove herself from the situation.

Once Yuuri was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, he spoke once more. “Victor? I don’t understand. Why did you say he isn’t competing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You insinuated it.”

Victor sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “May we speak about this later? Back at the inn?” It was a reasonable request, considering Yuuri was supposed to be focused on practicing, however…

_I promised myself we could work through this. That means making adjustments._

“I can’t concentrate thinking about this.” Yuuri countered just as sternly. “Please tell me, Victor. Don’t you trust me?” Bringing up trust was a sure fire way to get Victor talking, and a rather dirty tactic to use. However Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to care presently. He felt a sense of foreboding, and clearing the air was the only way to disperse it.

“You know I do, Yuuri.” Victor replied, with another sigh. “Please, let’s just-“

“No.” Yuuri surprised himself by denying, crossing his arms stubbornly. “And whilst we’re on the topic of Yurio, where is he? I thought he’d be at the rink now.” It wasn’t like the younger skater to slack off on training…

“Packing.” Victor said shortly. “He’s flying back to Russia.”

“You’re sending him home as punishment?” Yuuri was skeptical. With how infuriated Victor had been, he’d expected direr consequences. Not that he wanted Yurio to be punished severely. He personally thought an open discussion would be more beneficial than banishing. That would only strain their relationship impossibly further.

“Da.” Victor affirmed. “Now let’s drink that tea. You need some hydration.” He placed a hand on Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri shivered at the touch. Victor’s palm felt hot through the flimsy material of his training clothes. Blindly, he allowed himself to be steered, enjoying the small contact between them. He’d always enjoyed touch. From being held as an infant, holding hands as a child, and hugging others as an adult. The actions always served to soothe him.

And Victor knew it.

_He’s trying to pacify me._

Yuuri realized, a moment later.

_That manipulative-_

“Victor,” Yuuri dug his heels in, but didn’t quite have the strength to pull away. The contact was nice, after all. He’d always adored Victor’s touch. “We _have_ to talk about this.” He persisted. “I can’t concentrate-“

“Nyet.” Victor gritted. “ _ **Nyet**_. If you let yourself be controlled by stress-“

“Stress which is avoidable-“

“I decide what is and isn’t avoidable, Yuuri. _**I’m**_ the coach.”

Perhaps, under another circumstance, Yuuri might have found the gruff authority in Victor’s tone attractive. But in that moment, it was merely irritatingly controlling. Like the man was some dictator. “Are you trying to pull rank on me?” Yuuri wasn’t impressed. He’d thought their relationship was beyond intimidation tactics. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added. “You aren’t my Otosan, Victor.”

Victor flinched like he’d been struck, and his expression darkened. “This is non-negotiable. I know I’m not your father, but as a senior skater-“

“That’s just it!” Yuuri threw his hands up in the air, overwhelmed by all of the drama. Everything had been going so well, and then Yuri had to-

_No. I can’t blame this on Yuri. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later._

“You aren’t my father, but you _are_ Yuri’s! This isn’t about me! This is about him!”

“If it isn’t about you, then why is this issue interrupting your practice?”

“Victor-“

“Yuuri-“

The two paused as Victor’s phone rang, and the man clicked his tongue in annoyance as he slid it from his pocket. One glance at the caller identification had him wincing once more. “Yakov.” He grumbled, at Yuuri’s befuddled look. “I can call him back-“

“Do it now.” Yuuri said coolly. “I’m going to see Yuko-chan. Apologize to her for this ruckus.”

_She doesn’t deserve to have our drama infiltrating her workplace._

“Drink your tea.” Victor said, flatly resigned. “We will re-commence after that.”

“I haven’t forgotten about Yuri.”

Victor didn’t reply to that. He merely turned away, striding away from Yuuri and around the other side of the rink. He plopped down on the seating, clearly intending on being completely out of earshot whilst Yuuri drank his tea. It was a blatant action, one Yuuri recognized easily enough.

_Yakov must have been factored into his decision._

He was almost tempted to obstinately follow the man, but decided doing so would be another invitation for an argument.

Sigh.

_An argument. I’ve been **arguing** with Victor._

It was something Yuuri had never thought possible. He’d practically worshiped the man his entire life, and now they were bickering like some, _shudder, **married** _ couple. They hadn’t even gotten engaged yet! Yuuri always fantasised about that happening when he retired…

_It’s as if we’ve already finished the honeymoon phase._

“Yuuri!” Yuko called, poking her head into the rink area. She looked a little flustered, and Yuuri noticed the triplets were hanging on her arms. Honestly, he didn’t know how she parented three vivacious children… “The tea is ready!”

“Arigato, Yuko-chan.” Yuuri thanked politely. “Let me just unlace my skates.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Girls! Stop shoveling down the youkan! Eat a proper lunch first!” Yuko scolded mildly, pushing away the plate containing the sweet dessert. “You’ll upset your stomachs!”

The girls whined in complaint, and began picking dismally at their respective bento boxes. Yuko tailored them to her individual daughter’s tastes, and Yuuri mused on the dedication she showed towards her children. She was a dutiful mother, and displayed the utmost diligence. Yuuri always thought she’d had a maternal streak. It must have come in useful when she became a mother.

“Eat up, Yuuri-kun.” Yuko then instructed him, maternal instincts showing. “Sashimi is a nice light lunch for your stomach. We don’t want you getting faint.”

_I’m glad Takeshi got to marry her. She’s like a second Kaasan._

“Girls!” She then suddenly chided, never glancing away from Yuuri. “Manners!”

Yuuri smiled with amusement as she carried on scolding them, eagerly consuming the sashimi. It wasn’t katsudon, but it was enough to satisfy his stress cravings. For now, at least. He alternated his eating with sipping steaming tea, and felt himself relaxing at the calming motions. Sharing a meal with one you cared about was soothing in one of the simplest ways. “Is Takeshi-san manning the front desk today?” He asked, when the woman finally finished mildly lecturing her daughters.

“Yes.” Yuko confirmed, scooping up her rice slowly. “The Ice Palace is crowded on the weekends, but the rink is always reserved for you and Victor when you practice.” Then, she tapped a manicured fingernail against her ceramic bowl. “Speaking of Victor-san, what happened to his rink-mate from Japan? I thought he would join you two…”

Yuuri had to try very hard not to frown at the mention of Yurio. Yuko was a childhood friend, and would sense his distress if he reacted too overtly. It would lead to a set of prying questions he wasn’t allowed to answer. “Jet-lag.” He shrugged, as unconcerned as he could manage. “Yurio is only thirteen. He takes a while to recover from travelling.”

“Poor boy.” Yuko clicked her tongue in sympathy. “His parents must be worried sick.”

Yuuri twitched noticeably at the word ‘parents’, and Yuko widened her eyes in surprise. “Yuuri, is everything okay? You and Victor seem a little tense-“

“Just a little squabble.” Yuuri blurted, knowing a complete denial would be unconvincing.

_A partial truth is at least **half** believable._

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Yuko said sincerely, worry in her orbs. “It isn’t about your skating, is it? You know, even if he were to change his mind about coaching you, I know you could do fine on your own. You’re more talented then you give yourself credit for-“

“NO!” Yuuri yelled, horrified in the extreme. Such a prospect was enough to make him gag on his lunch, sick at such a terrible scenario.

_I can’t even imagine competing now without Victor’s support._

Perhaps it was sad. Perhaps he was as pathetic as Yurio said, but...

_It’s not just competing. I can’t imagine my **life** without Victor. Because I…_

“You really care about Victor, don’t you, Yuuri?” Yuko said, eyes knowing.

_It goes past regular dependence. I **love** him. I love him unlike I’ve ever loved anything. I think I even love him more than **katsudon**._

A remarkable thing indeed. Yuri never thought he’d love anything more than pork cutlet bowls. As embarrassing as that sounded.

It only reiterated one thing to him.

_If I truly love Victor, I can’t just keep arguing with him. I need to **work** with him. To do what is best in the long-run. Just bickering won’t achieve anything. I **know** that._

“I’ve always admired him.” Yuuri downplayed, a smile on his face. “He really is someone to look up to. I just want to make him proud of me. Please, Yuko-chan, don’t worry.”

“Yuuri L-O-V-E-S Victor!” One of the twins cried, a mischievous smile on her chubby face. As bad as it sounded, Yuuri could never tell them apart, even with their colour schemes.

“Axel!” Yuko breathed, appearing horribly embarrassed on the behalf of her daughter.

“L-O-V-E!” Another spelt, causing the trio to collapse into a fit of giggles.

“First comes love!” Axel sang in a teasing voice. “Then comes marriage!”

_**Then comes a kid with lots of baggage.** _

 

* * *

 

 

“Yakov!” Victor cried, as the man indicated he was about to end the call. “You must reconsider-“

_“My profession is that of a figure skating coach. I will not be conned into doing your job. Especially with my juniors depending on me.”_

“But Yuri is also your student-“

_“As it is approaching peak season his importance has lowered. My wife-“_

“Ex-wife.” Victor waspishly corrected.

_“Shouldn’t have to deal with an angry little boy. Perhaps if Yuri was calmer-“_

“He-“

_“Do not interrupt me, Viktor. I know Yuri better than you do. He will cause problems. Do you understand what I am saying? No one should have to deal with **your** problems. You caused this mess. You can get yourself out.”_

“But-“

_“With his grandfather in hospital he has no accommodation options so he will be staying in Japan. I wish you and Katsuki luck. You’re going to need it.”_

“Yakov-“

_“Nyet. You made that bed, Viktor. Now it’s time to lay in it.”_

The dial tone was promptly heard, and Victor rubbed his temples in distress. Never had there been a more accurate term for his mistakes…

_What am I supposed to do now? I can’t send him to Russia with no place to live._

Despite the countless mistakes he had made with his son, he wasn’t that heartless. He knew Yuri would probably find a place to stay (even if it were with a crazy fan) but…

_There must be **someone.**.._

 

* * *

 

 

“I need a bath.” Yuuri moaned, shoving his skates inside his locker and closing it gladly. He’d not long finished practice, and was happily anticipating a soak in the hot-springs. His muscles were aching, and his eyes felt dry from his lack of proper rest.

He’d resumed practice with Victor after his lunch without a word edgewise about their disagreement, but the man seemed distant, his mind clearly preoccupied with something.

It concerned Yuuri, to see the usually cheerful man so obviously worried.

_After my bath I might make him some borscht._

Yuuri thought, as Victor hummed vaguely in response.

_Some familiar food might cheer him up._

Yuuri had learnt to make some Russian cuisine just for Victor. He certainly missed his own nation’s authentic cooking when he travelled aboard, and wanted Victor to feel as home as possible.

_Yuri would probably appreciate some comfort food as well. I don’t think he needs to worry about the calories. He’d probably be healthier with a few more pounds._

There was silence between the pair as they left the Ice Palace, and Victor zipped off on his bike without waiting for Yuuri, as he usually did after a training session. They always travelled back to the inn together at a sedate pace, discussing Yuuri’s progress as the younger man walked beside the bicycle.

He could have ran to catch up. He had incredible stamina, after all, but he had an inkling that Victor wanted to be alone for a little while. And Yuuri couldn’t fault him that. After all, he’d spent a large portion of that morning skating alone just for that reason.

Still, he walked more briskly than usual, and when he arrived back home, he wasn’t overly surprised to find Victor wasn’t in the hot springs. They weren’t always a den of solitude, and some of his parents’ patrons were already wading in the steaming water.

The warm water felt heavenly on Yuuri’s muscles, which were tight from practice, and strained from stress. It also served to rid him of the sweat that saturated his body. He’d worked extra hard that day, to much less praise than usual. He was almost tempted to pout about it, but knew such an action was _entirely_ inappropriate considering their current circumstances.

There was an elderly man who chatted with him in the bath. His Japanese was poor, but Yuuri didn’t mind the distraction from his own thoughts, even if it interrupted the serenity the hot springs allowed. Pleasantly enough, the man didn’t recognise him (perhaps not a fan of ice skating?) and was more interested in speaking about Hasetsu as a tourist destination.

It was nice to speak about something other than ice skating for a little while, and he felt refreshed and rejuvenated after he had finished bathing. It was wonderful to forget.

But he couldn’t forget forever.

Especially when Yuri was lingering uncertainly at the entrance to the hot springs when he was leaving. The younger boy was protecting his modesty with a towel, and Yuuri sincerely hoped the other male had a case of the sniffles, and didn’t have a red nose and puffy eyes from anything resembling _crying._

_Maybe he just has allergies. Yurio wouldn’t be crying…right?_

Yet his instincts were **_screaming_** at him to intervene.

_I can’t just ignore him…_

“Hello.” Yuuri tried his best to chirp, waving awkwardly at the other male. “I didn’t see you at the rink today. Are you feeling well?”

_‘Feeling well’? What a stupid thing to say…_

Yuuri immediately berated himself.

_**Of course**_ _he isn’t feeling well. How could he be? After a confrontation with Victor…_

Yuri grunted. “It is none of your business, pig. Keep your snout out.”

_Of course._

Yuuri thought, dejected.

_Of course he doesn’t want to talk to me. I can see why. In a roundabout way this is partially my fault. If I knew he was Victor’s son…_

Hypotheticals were dangerous.

Haplessly, Yuuri watched as Yuri made to step around him. He’d tried? Hadn’t he? What else could he say to possibly try and make the blond feel better? Maybe he just wanted to be alone…

_**Nobody** wants to be alone._

The thought was filled with certainty, and it encouraged Yuuri to keep trying. “I think I might make borscht for dinner tonight,” He went on conversationally, ignoring Yuri’s snappy retort. “Would you like to join Victor and me? I’m sure you miss your home cooking.”

“What home cooking?” Yuri snorted derisively. “I, unlike some, am too busy to spend my time cooking.”

“Then what do you eat?” Yuuri asked, raising his eyebrows.

_Surely he doesn’t have a personal chef. Although it wouldn’t surprise me, considering how spoiled he behaves all of the time…_

“My diet.” Yuri answered, crinkling his small nose huffily. “Yakov has all of us on a strict meal plan catered to our bodies. I eat that, and nothing else.”

_**What?** Just a **diet?**_

Yuuri was disbelieving, his mouth falling open. Meal plans were relatively standard, to keep a body in peak health, but…

_Yurio is thirteen! A growing boy! He needs lots of snacks and special meals to keep him healthy and happy!_

Well, now he was realizing why _he’d_ always been a chubby child. His mother had always treated him to delicious foods, likely with the same rationale…

_Ugh. Kaasan thoughts._

Still…

“You need to enjoy life more.” Yuuri said lightly. “What’s the point of all of that hard work if you can’t savour a nice meal every now and again?”

Yuri raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Medals. Accolades. Titles.”

“Winning isn’t everything, Yurio.”

“Perhaps to a loser.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but was glad to note the conversation had seemed to perk Yurio up a little. It seemed making snide remarks was a legitimate coping mechanism for the boy.

_He may fuss, but he enjoyed eating that pork cutlet bowl the other night. He should eat with Victor and me._

“Tell you what,” Yuuri began casually. “You try my borscht tonight, and if it isn’t Moscow standard, you can have my room for the rest of your stay here. Sound fair?”

_Yurio can’t turn down a challenge._

“Da.” Yuri, predictably, conceded, his competitive spirit getting the better of him. “You better hide all of your embarrassing secrets or I might post them to Instagram!”

And Yuuri, watching Yurio’s rapidly drying eyes, held back a small smirk of his own.

_Too easy. This kid is easier to control than everyone thinks._

 

* * *

 

 

“I always loved this dish,” Victor murmured, as Yuuri busied himself in the kitchen. It was abandoned, the Japanese male having requested it for himself. His family had gone out for a rare evening, eating barbeque at a friend’s home.

It left the communal space strangely quiet, and it felt like an alien space to Yuuri, who was so accustomed to it being filled with chatter and laughter. Now, it was only Victor’s voice, as the man conversed softly with Yuuri.

Yuuri doubted the atmosphere would be this calm when Yurio finally showed up. He hadn’t told Victor he was expecting the other male, and had accepted Victor’s reconciliatory hug earlier with guilt. (“I’m sorry, Yuuri,”) Victor had apologised tiredly. (“Being a father is hard.”)

And Yuuri had returned the embrace wholeheartedly, inwardly cringing.

_Hard?_

He’d thought dryly.

_You haven’t seen **hard** yet, Victor_.

“Yakov’s ex-wife makes it well.” He went on, as Yuuri stirred the pot carefully. “I almost feel sorry he’s missing it, now that they are divorced.”

“’Almost?’” Yuuri repeated, surprised at the petty nature of Victor’s words.

_Something **must** have happened with Yakov. Why is he being so secretive?_

Before Victor had the chance to elaborate (or avoid the question, more like) the door slid open, and Yuri came stomping into the room with a confrontational glare on his face. He was freshly washed, with hair still damp from the hot springs.

“Yurio!” Yuuri greeted in a glad tone, ignoring the sour look that immediately overtook Victor’s expression. If anything, he was happy to see it.

_So what? **I** can be petty as well. If he wants to shut me out, then he can deal with the ramifications. I’m not going to let myself be the clueless one in this scenario._

“Just in time to set the table!” He said, smile tight on his face. “Victor can show you where the Western cutlery is. He should know by now.”

The two Russian males stared at one another with distaste, and Yuuri elbowed a lingering Victor in the side, in a not so covert manner. “Da.” Victor then said, defeated. “I can show you.”

And, in typical Yuri fashion, the temperamental teen couldn’t let the action go without comment. “Whipped.” He snorted. “Playing house, Victor? What a life you have been reduced to.”

Before Victor could reply, Yuuri fumbled to change the subject. “You ought to dry your hair better,” He managed to think up, as Victor opened his mouth. “Yurio. You’ll catch a chill.”

Yuri blushed somewhat at the chiding, and Victor gave a snort of his own.  
“ _Da, Yuriy. YA vizhu, kakuyu rol' vy byli delegirovany v etom._ " (Da, Yuri. I see what role you have been delegated in this 'house'.)

“ _Zakroy rot, konchenyy staryy chudika_ -“ (Shut your mouth, washed-up old geezer-)

“I may not be an expert Russian linguist but I **_do_** get the gist of what you’re saying.” Yuuri interrupted sharply. “Honestly-“

“I am not child-“ Yuri growled, as deeply as his mostly unbroken voice could manage.

“ _O da, eto bylo ubeditel'nym-_ “ (Oh yes, that was convincing-)

“Victor,” Yuuri said the name with faux cheeriness, and the insincere smile on his face had both of the Russian males recoiling. Whoever said Yuuri Katsuki couldn’t be intimidating was _clearly_ deluded. That smile was what graced _nightmares_. “Can we speak outside of the kitchen for a moment? Yurio can watch the borscht.”

Still, Yuri made a brave stab at disobedience, despite his unnerved eyes. “I told you, pig, I don’t cook-“

“Liar.” Victor crossed his arms. “You always loved cooking with your _dedushka_ (grandpa).”

It was an interesting piece of information. One Yuuri decided to re-visit at a later point. A later point where he could take his eyes off of Yurio without worrying about the young teen attacking his father. “Victor.” He repeated pressingly.

“ _Ne pytaytes' sorvat' borshch, rebenka_.” (Don’t try and sabotage the borscht, child.) Victor ordered, before grasping Yuuri’s hand, and leading the way out of the kitchen. The older man shut the door carefully behind them, and after pausing for a moment to listen for any attempted eavesdropping, wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist, burying his head in the Japanese male’s neck. His breath tickled the sensitive skin there, and Yuuri barely held back a small giggle. He’d always had a ticklish neck. “I’m sorry, _moy sladkiy_. As soon as I finish organising housing for him, it will be just the two of us again.”

_Housing? What does he mean by housing? Yurio shouldn’t have to worry about that while he’s-_

A loud, persistent buzz shook Yuuri from his contemplation, and he pulled his mobile from his pocket. He didn’t usually receive calls or texts (asides from the odd email from Phichit) so he was inclined to read the message immediately.

**From: Phichit Chulanont**

**Is it true what they’re saying, Yuuri? Celestino told me to keep it under wraps, but I have to know, and since Viktor is your coach now, I thought you might know…**

**PS: How are you and your Russian bf going? ;)**

_Know what? What is he talking about?_

Usually Phichit’s last statement would make Yuuri furious with embarrassment, but he was too focused on his former words.

_What is going on? And why am I always the last to know?_

It was incredibly frustrating, and quite frankly, Yuuri was sick of it. Victor was supposed to be _his_ coach, _**his**_ lover, yet the man was keeping secrets from him!

Yuuri slid the phone back into his pocket with a clenched jaw. He could have asked Phichit to explain, but despite the other male being his best friend, he didn’t want to admit to any weakness in his relationship with Victor. The Thai boy was still a competitor, after all. Even if he were more likely to sob into his specially designed hamster pillow than rejoice at any hiccups in his friend’s relationship…

Phichit _really_ liked the idea of him and Victor together. To the point it was almost a little obsessive and creepy.

_Almost_ , because Yuuri was the creepy one who practically had a shrine dedicated to Victor before the man showed up and he had to hide all of the pictures away.

The annoyance that had been bubbling toxically within him melted away into hurt, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel pathetically teary himself. “What’s going on?” He asked softly, almost pleading for an answer. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, Victor. What did you do?”

_Competing, Yakov, housing…_

A picture was beginning to fully form in Yuuri’s brain, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Victor ran a hand through Yuuri’s hair in immediate comfort, tightening his grip on the Japanese male. “I suppose you haven’t checked social media today.”

_What does that have to do with anything?_

“No.” Yuuri wasn’t as active on social media as Victor and Phichit, the latter of who was practically attached to his phone when he wasn’t skating or socialising. “Why?”

“Who was the text from?”

“Don’t change the subject, Victor.”

“It was from your Thai friend, wasn’t it? Doubtless Yakov has spoken to his coach by now.”

“Why would Yakov-san need to speak with Coach Ciandini?”

Yuuri felt like a dog chasing its own tail. The answer to his inquiries always just out of reach as Victor danced around the issue like a master of elusion.

Victor’s lips suddenly pressed onto the soft skin just behind Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri gasped at the sensation.

He was stressed, and nothing relieved stress better than sex. And katsudon. And cuddles with Victor. And sex with Victor. _**Did he mention sex with Victor?**_

_I practically reek of desperation._

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor practically purred, upon hearing Yuuri’s pleasured gasp. “You’re so tense. Do you need Daddy-“

Suddenly, nausea rolled through Yuuri’s stomach, and his vaguely rising arousal dissipated. The title is a mere reminder of the boy in the other room, and Yuuri finds himself feeling near panicked. “Victor, stop-“

Teeth nibble at his sensitive earlobe.

“Victor-“

A tongue inches out-

“Victor-“

Hands venture lower-

“STOP!” Yuuri practically shouted. “Victor, stop!”

The loud exclamation made Victor pause, his eyes widening in surprise. “Moy-“

“No.” Yuuri gritted unwaveringly. “No. No more pet names, no more distractions, no more...” He floundered momentarily, gesturing between the two of them. “No more _**this**_. Tell me what you’ve done! You promised you would tell me back at the inn!”

Victor appeared conflicted, but after several long moments, he eventually opened his mouth to commence his reluctant explanation.

…And succeeded in changing their lives for the rest of the year.

_**At the least.** _

Because there was _no way_ Yuuri was going to allow Victor to get away with pawning his son off to someone else. Not when he had been the one to make the decision that started all of this. Things were going to change. Even if Yuuri had to be the one to change them.

_It seems Yurio will be staying in my room longer than I anticipated._

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter isn't my best, and that it has a sudden end.  
> It was going to be longer, but I didn't finish the second half so had to split it. I try to spend what time I can manage writing, but my spare time was mostly spoiled this week due to sickness. Which sucks cause' it disrupts your life. 
> 
> I would say this week was completely horrible, but that would be a lie considering the latest episode of YOI! :D Can this anime get any better? 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like. Tell me what you think. And thanks once more for all of your help so far!
> 
> PS: I just realized you can reply individually to comments people leave on stories. I'm still kind of a newbie so I'm figuring out the etiquette of this website. If anyone is annoyed at me for not replying to them, I'm sorry! If you want me to, can you please let me know? I don't wanna irritate anyone... 
> 
> Oh, and since the next chapter is partially written, here's a little sneak peak...
> 
>  
> 
> “Are you saying I’m not good enough?”
> 
> “No!” Yuuri practically squeaked, sincere denial in his voice. “No, Victor. Y-you’re amazing, and I still want to be with you. I just…” He paused, taking a steeling breath. Confronting Victor had always been hard. “Don’t understand how someone so amazing can treat their son like this.”
> 
> Pure shock flickered across Victor’s face. “Yuuri-“ 
> 
> “I’m not doing this with you.” Yuuri said, forcing himself not to waver as he peeled himself away from the other male. “You have a real son. He should be your priority.”


	5. Turn it around, get a rewrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you saying I’m not good enough on my own?” Victor growled. “That you won’t be with me unless I take your advice? Are you trying to blackmail me?”
> 
> “No!” Yuuri practically squeaked, sincere denial in his voice. “No, Victor. Y-you’re amazing, and I still want to be with you. I just…” He paused, taking a steeling breath. Confronting Victor had always been hard. “Don’t understand how someone so amazing can treat their son like this.”
> 
> Pure shock flickered across Victor’s face. “Yuuri-“ 
> 
> “I’m not doing this with you.” Yuuri said, forcing himself not to waver as he peeled himself away from the other male. “You have a real son. He should be your priority.”
> 
> AND
> 
> Can I be a real father?
> 
> It was a thought that bothered him. It was clear that was Yuuri’s intention. But could he really pull the parental thing off? He didn’t want to disappoint his boyfriend, but…
> 
> He wants us to play house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you are all enjoying this festive season, even if you don't celebrate Christmas. Here is another chapter, I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> I had fun writing it, it was good therapy after the latest episode. It hit all the feels.

 

* * *

 

 

“Itadakimasu!” Yuuri cried, hands pressed together thankfully. He’d just ladled the piping hot borscht into the respective bowls Yuri had laid out, and was gladly anticipating a meal to momentarily distract himself from the craziness that was Victor’s confession.

(“Yuri will not be competing for the rest of the year.”)

It was a shocking revelation, one Yuuri hadn’t anticipated. Yuri had been training so hard for the Grand Prix, even if he was only in the junior division…

Yuuri was in such surprise that he hadn’t offered any true reaction to Victor’s words yet. Before he even had the chance, he’d hastily excused himself to the kitchen, nervously blabbering about how (“He shouldn’t leave Yurio alone with the borscht for too long.”) and that (“It must be simmering already.”)

Then he’d served the meal, and the other two males had collapsed onto the floor, folding their knees underneath their bodies as they diligently avoided making eye contact.

The table had been set carefully, and Yurio sipped water mechanically as he waited for his soup to cool down to a moderate temperature. “’Itadakimasu”.” He repeated robotically, stumbling over the Japanese. Victor and Yuuri tended to speak English around the other male, since Yuri was more familiar with that language, and Yuuri comprehended it better than Russian. “What does that mean, anyway?”

“It’s something we say before we eat. A sort of thanks for the meal we are receiving.”

“Like when religious people say grace or whatever?”

_Yuri would make a very interesting student._

“Sort of. But without the religious part.”

“Humph.” Yuri grumbled, taking up his spoon and scooping up the soup.

“Careful, Yuri it’ll be-“ Before Yuuri could finish, Yuri had shoved the spoonful in his mouth, and immediately spluttered, holding his mouth as it burned from the temperature. “Hot.” He finished lamely, pushing the water jug closer to the boy. Yuri immediately poured the cool liquid into his glass, slopping some of it onto the table in his haste.

Victor, who was sitting adjacent to Yuuri, gave a small snicker, and Yuuri was grateful for Yuri’s loud gulping, as the boy would have likely thrown his bowl at the man’s head if he had heard. Instead, Yuuri send him a severe look, kicking a foot across the table to impact with the man’s knee. Victor winced, and sent Yuuri an apologetic smile.

“It tastes like shit.” Yuri eventually spat, once he had consumed all of the water in his glass. His cheeks were either red from the heat, or from embarrassment. Probably, Yuuri thought, a little bit of both.

Victor, naturally, bristled at the tone. “ _Ne bud'te neblagodarnymi. Eto imeyet smysl tol'ko, uchityvaya, chto vy tol'ko chto sozhgli vashi vkusovyye retseptory_.” (Don’t be ungrateful. It only makes sense, considering you just burned your taste buds.)

“ _Nikto ne prosil za Vashe mneniye, starik_.” (No one asked for your opinion, old man) Yuri retorted fiercely, dropping his spoon into the ceramic bowl with a clatter.

Yuuri winced. The dishes were a special set to his mother, and he didn’t appreciate the rough treatment of them. The woman would be terribly disappointed if any of the pieces ended up chipped or broken. Still, he didn’t want to scold Yuri right now, not when Victor was bickering with him. _Again._

Instead…

_I have to be diplomatic. Cool-headed. Otherwise these stubborn asses will never get along._

He never thought he’d think of his beloved Victor as an ‘ass’, but he guessed it was only inevitable. You couldn’t worship your lover all of the time, otherwise it wasn’t a real relationship. It was just a fan-based one.

“Old man!” Victor exclaimed, this time in English. He had an appalled expression on his face, and his hand instantly flew to the top of his head, poking at the hair there. “You little-!”

“Do you two need a time-out?” Yuuri interjected dryly, and the two fell quiet. _“Shinken ni, bikutā?”_ He said with exasperation, switching to Japanese so Yuri wasn’t privy to his chiding. _“Anata wa otonadearu hazudesu.”_ (Seriously, Victor? You're supposed to be the adult.)

Victor, still with his hand upon his hair, scratched his head sheepishly. _“Mōshiwakearimasen, yūri. Kare wa chōdo totemo okotte iru kamo **shiremasen.** ”_ (Sorry, Yuuri. He can just be so **infuriating**.)

_“Kosodate e yōkoso.”_ (Welcome to child-rearing.)

_“Anata wa dō yatte son'nani shitte imasu ka?”_ (How do you know so much about it?)

_“Yuuko-chan no mitsugo o bebīshittā.”_ (Babysitting the triplets for Yuuko-chan.)

Yuri glowered at the two men, only half comprehending what they were saying. His Japanese wasn’t the best, and he failed to interpret properly when people spoke the language too fast. Like the two men were _deliberately_ doing. “Can you speak a language I understand!?” He said in outburst, crossing his arms petulantly.

Yuuri blinked. “Now you know how I feel when you two speak Russian so quickly.” He said wryly. “Look,” He then sighed. “Can we just eat dinner peacefully?”

Yuri narrowed his eyes with a huff. “ _Only_ if you promise to let me have your room. Your borscht isn’t too terrible, but it’s nothing compared to the stuff you can get in Eastern Europe.”

_Isn’t too terrible? I take that as high praise. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me._

“Your room?” Victor repeated, eyebrows arched.

“Well, it’s not like I need it.” Yuuri said casually, not wanting to make a big deal. “I sleep with you nearly every night anyway. It is plain wasteful to leave it not in use. Especially since we have Yurio here with us.”

“But Yuri is returning to Moscow-“

“No he isn’t.” Yuuri refuted bluntly, without any hesitation.

The father and son duo both gaped at him in shock, and Yuuri barely held back a small giggle. The resemblance was very heavy in that moment.

“Yuuri-” Victor began slowly, but was interrupted by Yuri, whose eyes had widened in surprise at the abrupt announcement.

“REALLY?” He practically shouted, unable to control his voice in his shock. His eyes flickered with a mixture of easily distinguished emotions. Hope, and reluctance being the most prevalent.

_Despite his tough attitude, he’s easy to read. Especially when he gets emotional. Hope…he might be more attached to his father than I originally assumed. Although he’d probably never admit it…_

“Of course.” Yuuri managed to get out, unflinching despite Victor’s smoldering look. “If you aren’t competing this year, you may as well remain here in Japan with us. It’ll give us all a chance to...”

_Murder each other out of frustration._

Yuuri smiled, hoping it was halfway convincing. “Get to know each other.”

Yuri raised his eyebrows, resembling Victor so much Yuuri was momentarily taken-aback. “You want to ‘get to know’ me?” His voice was skeptical. “ _Really_?”

“Of course.” Yuuri repeated in assurance. “You’re Victor’s son.” Yuri curled his lip, and Yuuri hurried to add something else. He didn’t want the boy thinking he was only doing this out of some awry obligation. “And a really talented ice skater. Even though you aren’t allowed to do jumps yet, I’ve seen you practicing them. I’d like to learn from you.” Predictably, the humble statement had Yuri relaxing somewhat.

_Appealing to his ego. That trick works with Victor as well, sometimes._

“Plus, I know your coach in Russia must be very busy. If you stay here-“

“Yuuri!” Victor said sharply, his spoon, like Yuri’s, clattering into the bowl with a horrible clang. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Yuri’s eyes flew between the two males with interest, and new dawning was dancing across his face. “What were you going to say?” He demanded quickly. “Hey, pig-“

Before Yuuri even had a chance to open his mouth, Victor was at Yuuri’s side, grasping him by the shoulder and pulling him up from his seat. “Excuse us.” Yuuri murmured with dignity, as he was practically dragged from the room by Victor.

The man slammed the door behind them, and Yuuri cringed at the loud sound. “What are you doing!?” He interrogated roughly, still keeping his grip on Yuuri. He looked him in the face fully, searching for an explanation. “When I came here, it wasn’t to-“

“ **Coach him**.” Yuuri requested, blushing slightly at his own audacity.

_I can’t let him sway me._

Taking a steeling breath, Yuuri willed his cheeks to cool. “You’re a coach now, Victor, a _good_ one. I truly believe you have the capability to coach Yurio as well. It shouldn’t be too hard, since the two of us aren’t competing together…” He swallowed thickly at Victor’s dark look, and turned wheedling. “It could just be for this _year_. Then he can go back to Yakov.”

“I need to focus on you, Yuuri. _Solely_ you. We have a lot of work to do before you’re ready to compete at the top of your game. I don’t have time to babysit.”

“This isn’t a game to Yurio, Victor. He takes skating very seriously. More seriously than anyone I know. He may be…” Yuuri searched for a complimentary word to describe Yuri’s unwavering stubbornness. “Tenacious, but I know he’d listen to you. As far as skating is concerned, at least. He wants to be the best. Be _taught_ by the best.”

_And you owe him this much._

Yuuri wisely refrained from voicing that thought. He didn’t want to fight with Victor. “Please, Victor.” He implored. “We can all get along, can’t we? I don’t think I can manage, otherwise…”

“Are you saying I’m not good enough on my own?” Victor growled. “That you won’t be with me unless I take your advice? Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“No!” Yuuri practically squeaked, sincere denial in his voice. “No, Victor. Y-you’re amazing, and I still want to be with you. I just…” He paused, taking a steeling breath. Confronting Victor had always been hard. “Don’t understand how someone so amazing can treat their son like this.”

Pure shock flickered across Victor’s face. “Yuuri-“

“I’m not doing this with you.” Yuuri said, forcing himself not to waver as he peeled himself away from the other male. “You have a real son. He should be your priority.”

“I love _**you**_ -“

“You know there are different kinds of love, Victor. You’ve displayed that knowledge in your choreographing. Don’t use _**me**_ as an excuse to push away your son. If you won’t take care of him, then _**I**_ will!” Then, with a strong look of finality, Yuuri stalked back into the kitchen, where Yuri had resumed eating his soup. “Yuri,” He addressed firmly. “You’re staying here. End of discussion. You can move into your room tomorrow. I’ll spend tonight getting it ready for you.”

_The last thing I need is Yuri going through my belongings. I’ll never live it down if he sees Victor’s posters…_

“Please put your bowl in the sink when you’re finished. I’ll wash it up later.”

Yuri watched with a gobsmacked expression as Yuuri then turned on his heel and strode away purposefully.

It seemed the Japanese pig wasn’t a _complete_ coward after all.

In fact, Yuri was _**almost** _ beginning to like him. It was hilarious how he scolded Victor…

And the compliment about his skating had been nice, especially coming from an older competitor like Yuuri.

Things were bound to get interesting from here on out.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor glared down at the photograph in his hands, resisting the urge to tear it into a million tiny pieces.

_Why couldn’t he have stayed this way?_

He thought with frustration, staring hardly at the image. It was a picture of him and Yuri, when the boy was still an infant. The boy had just started smiling, and was beaming upwards at his father. Victor himself looked stunned, the unexpected flash of the camera having blinded him.

Still, it was a nice enough photograph, the serene scene of snow behind them a beautiful addition to the frame. It was one of the only photographs he had of him and Yuri, and the only one where the boy was smiling so contently. He kept it in his wallet, tucked away safely behind his multitude of cards. He’d accidentally dropped it once, and Christophe had inquired about the identity of the baby. He’d told the man it was a distant cousin of his, and the man had faultlessly believed him. Even if the baby resembled Yuri, _no one_ would assume the boy was his son. It seemed unthinkable, and it was rare for fathers to be so young.

He re-visited this photo often. Sometimes in fondness, but in other times, sheer frustration. He remembered the day so well, Yuri’s warmth against his chest, the powdered snow crunching underneath his boots, and the crisp smell of winter in the air. Yuri had loved the snow, even back then, and Victor had watched like a hawk as the boy had toddled around in it, even skidding across a patch of ice at one stage and giggling madly. He knew the boy would like ice skating, in that moment. It was clear by the fascination in his eyes.

It had been such a lovely day, and Yuri had shown him the unconditional love of a child towards their parent. No shying away, no arguing, just adoration. He’d cuddled him so much, that Yuri’s grandfather had worried he would squish the tiny child. At the end of that day, he thought he’d never love anyone that much ever again.

But he did.

It was _**Yuuri.**_

The same name as his son (although with alternate spelling) and that was as far as the resemblance went. He’d been enthralled with the Japanese male ever since the dance-off incident of last year, and had jumped at the opportunity to coach the male. Then there was the whole…

Okay, so _maybe_ the whole kink had been a _little_ twisted. But he’d felt the desire to play Daddy, even if it was towards his lover. It was an outlet.

_Can I be a **real** father?_

It was a thought that bothered him. It was clear that was Yuuri’s intention. But could he really pull the parental thing off? He didn’t want to disappoint his boyfriend, but…

_He wants us to play **house.**_

This really wasn’t the best time for such a hard challenge. Yet, Victor had been the one to push this decision onto Yuuri. If he hadn’t stopped Yuri from competing, the boy would have simply returned to Russia to train with Yakov…

But he couldn’t turn back now. He doubted Yuuri or Yakov would let him.

Not to mention the obligation that was weighing him down…

Was this how parents felt? Heavy and burdened with responsibility?

Yet, despite his previous words to his son, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the boy being born. Because there were times that Victor truly _loved_ Yuri, in a strictly fatherly way. The scarce memories he had were worth keeping. He liked to revisit them when he saw the boy going about his life without him. Yuri may have thought he never paid attention to him, but he always kept watch over the boy when his schedule allowed.

He truly admired Yuri’s independence. Was _**extremely**_ proud of him…

But at the same time, a conflicting feeling of jealousy rose in him. He had been the one to force Yuri into an early adulthood, yet he still wanted the boy to rely on him. He still wanted Yuri to love his papa the way he did as a baby, despite pushing him away at nearly every opportunity.

_**Fuck.** _

What was wrong with him? How had he messed up so horribly? How had he allowed things to get this bad? To the extent that Yuuri, a non-relation to his son, was taking on _Victor’s_ abandoned responsibility in his steed…

Yuuri could be hard-headed when he wanted to be. Victor couldn’t convince him otherwise now. He just had to…

_I have to try. The foundation of our relationship will collapse otherwise. And maybe…_

Maybe he could get Yuri to smile at him like that again.

He just had to stop pushing him away. Yuri wasn’t the _only_ one afraid of rejection.

 

* * *

 

 

**To: Phichit Chulanont**

**From: Yuuri Katsuki**

_**Sorry for not replying earlier, Phichit. Yes, it’s true. But please keep this quiet okay?** _

Yuuri sent the message as he was emptying his drawers, so Yuri had space to put his own clothes. He couldn’t have the boy living out of his suitcase. Plus, Victor’s room had space for the majority of his belongings. It was one of the biggest bedrooms. His parents wanted his new coach to be completely comfortable. They felt indebted to him.

Near instantaneously, Phichit sent a reply. The Thai male was practically attached to his phone. He was probably sitting on his bed with his hamsters crawling all over him…

**From: Phichit Chulanont**

_**Wow** **_!_ That’s really harsh! But good news for the other junior competitors. Otabek Altin might rise to the occasion…** _

Yuuri cocked his head, shovelling a pair of boxer briefs into the bag he was using to transport his clothing. He thumbed out a reply one-handedly.

**To: Phichit Chulanont**

**From: Yuuri Katsuki**

**_Who’s Otabek Altin?_ **

Yuuri wracked his brain, but couldn’t remember anyone with that name.

**From: Phichit Chulanont**

_**The kid from Kazakhstan that’s always staring at Yuri Plisetsky. He’s been improving a lot.** _

_Staring at Yuri? Why would that boy be staring at Yuri?_

Protective instincts rose, and Yuuri shook his head furtively.

_No. No more Kaasan instincts._

**To: Phichit Chulanont**

**From: Yuuri Katsuki**

_**Oh. He must admire Yuri’s talent.** _

Phichit’s lightning response had Yuuri’s eyebrow twitching.

**From: Phichit Chulanont**

_**Is that what the kids are calling it these days ;)** _

_No. No. No! Yuri’s only thirteen! I have to keep him away from that creepy-_

A knock at his bedroom door interrupted his frantic thoughts. “Come in.” He invited. He was glad when the intrusion wasn’t Victor, but rather his mother. He wanted the man to think for himself for a little while. Hopefully he would reach the right conclusion without Yuuri needing to hold his hand any further.

“Kaasan,” He greeted with a smile. “How was the barbeque?”

“Delicious.” She replied, rubbing her rotund stomach. “But I think I ate a little too much. And your father had a little too much to drink…”

“Nothing new, then.” Yuuri joked. His mother laughed at his comment. It was nice to see her relaxed, not bustling about the inn in work. She deserved a break every now and again. “Can I do something for you?”

“Oh no.” She said, smoothing down her skirt. It was a somewhat anxious action that had Yuuri’s eyes narrowing. “I was just wondering…” Her eyes fell on Yuuri’s bag, and he flushed.

“I-I’m moving into Victor’s room.” He stuttered in explanation. “Yuri will be staying a while, if that’s okay with you…”

“Of course it’s okay.” She affirmed with no hesitation. “He needs looking after, that boy. Sato-san was at the barbeque, he told us about his little running away escapade…”

The colour, which had so quickly rushed to Yuuri’s face, leeched away. He remembered the note Sato-san had left, the note currently in his wastepaper bin… “Did he say anything about Victor?” He said, trying for flippant but coming out edgy.

If his mother noticed his anxiety, she didn’t mention it. “Only that Victor is a very talented man, and that you two make a fine pair. We knew that already, of course…” Her eyes settled on Yuuri’s bag again. “But I have to ask, as a mother’s duty, if you’ve been being…” She trailed off.

“Being?” Yuuri prompted, not particularly liking the direction this conversation was heading.

“Well,” She cleared her throat a little awkwardly. “Your sister heard some… _strange_ sounds coming from Victor’s room a couple of nights ago. We know you were in there with him.”

Yuuri groaned, slapping his hands over his face. “Kill me now…” He murmured.

“There’s no need to feel embarrassed, Yuuri. You’re an adult now. And your father and I have always _known_. You were always so obsessed with Victor, it was obvious you had a teensy crush on him.”

_Teensy? More like **mammoth.** I jerked off to him from sixteen upwards._

“And I want you to know, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your Otosan and I accept you for who you are, and we are both very proud of you.”

As mortifying as the conversation was, Yuuri felt a little relieved at her supportive words. It was nice to know he didn’t have to worry about his parents discovering his ‘secret’ relationship with Victor anymore. “Thanks Kaasan.” He felt a little choked up. “I really appreciate it.”

“It is fine, Yuuri. We just want you to know.” Then, the woman took a deep breath, obviously preparing to say something uncomfortable. “However, I know that sexual education in Japan often glosses over same-sex relationships, and I know you have a computer to look up things, but your Otosan and I have to know you’re being safe-“

_I can’t listen to any more of this. If my cheeks get any hotter I’m going to explode._

Rifling in his bag, he pulled out a packet that had been tucked away in his underwear drawer. Truthfully, he never required his condoms. Victor always had his own and never required Yuuri's. “Condom!” He squeaked, displaying it to her clearly. “We’re always safe! And I know Victor is clean, anyhow…”

The woman squinted at the packet for a moment, before letting out a sigh of relief. “Okay then.” She said. “As long as you’re careful.”

There was a stifling silence between them, and Yuuri coughed pointedly.

“I think I’ll go to bed.” She decided tactfully. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Kaasan.” He returned, grateful when she left the room and shut the door firmly behind her. He didn’t think he could take anymore mortification…

_I’m **twenty three** and I just got the sex talk from my mother! This is humiliating! I can never let anyone know!_

Trying to forget the conversation had ever happened, Yuuri returned to his task. He hoped he never had to give _The Talk_ to anyone himself…

_Imagine Victor giving Yuri **The Talk…**_

Yuuri couldn’t refrain from snorting.

_I’d pay money to watch that._

 

* * *

 

“I think it’s time we have a talk.”

The voice is unexpected, and Yuri lets out a small, rather unmanly, shriek. He’d just left the bathroom, and Victor seemed to have been waiting outside to corner him.

“What is _with_ you?” He hissed, grasping at his chest. His heart was thumping madly. “You’re always lurking around near the bathroom. Do you _want_ to see me with my cock out?”

Victor shuddered with revulsion, face tinting a little green. “Don’t be immature.” He reprimanded sternly. “You know I have no interest.”

Yuri snorted. “Yeah. You’re right. You aren’t an incestuous creep. Just a pervert interested in that Japanese pig’s c-“

“If you say that word again I’ll wash your mouth out.” Victor snapped, eyes flashing with anger. “Don’t talk about him so crudely. He’s the reason you’re still here.”

Remarkably enough, Yuri _did_ feel a little bad about badmouthing the Japanese man.

_I must be coming down with something…_

Still, Yuri scoffed. “Yeah right. You can’t do that.”

“Want to try me?”

“I’m not a little kid.”

“Your height and behaviour state otherwise.”

“I can’t control my height!”

“ _Nyet._ But you can control your behaviour. I don’t want to hear you speak that way again.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” It’s a juvenile statement, and Yuri holds back a cringe when Victor’s lips upturns in amusement. He knows the bastard is laughing at him!

“ _Da,_ of course not, Mr Adult. You’ve demonstrated _such_ maturity since you arrived here.”

_Sarcastic fucker!_

Yuri fumed. “You can’t pick and choose when to act like my father!”

“ _Da_ , I can’t pick. But I can _ **choose**_ , Yuri. And I’m choosing now.” Victor leant down to be eye-level with his son, gazing at him unblinkingly. There was resolve in his eyes. “Yuuri is right. I need to take responsibility. So you and I are going to get along for the duration of your stay here. In a personal, and professional, context.”

Unbidden, excitement rose in Yuri. “What do you mean ‘professional’?”

Victor saw the excitement flash across the boy’s face, and his eyes softened. “I’ll be your coach for the rest of the year. But you have to promise me you’ll try to be nice to Yuuri.”

A tall order, but Yuri would always put his career first.

“ _Da_. I can try.”

Victor dared to ruffle his blond locks. “ _Khoroshiy mal'chik_. (Good boy) We’re off to an okay start.”

_Let fatherhood properly commence._

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know a lot of you have been wanting Victor to finally step up and take responsibility, and (Mama) Yuuri pushed him to :)
> 
> Expect lots of fluff, humor, and drama in the coming chapters! (A little bit of angst, as well) 
> 
> As always a big THANKS to everyone who left reviews and Kudos. The feedback really helps me stay motivated and inspires what direction I take the story. So (please) review if you would like! ALSO, I have another question...
> 
> I was wondering if I should add another pairing? EVENTUAL Otabek/Yuri? Or should I leave well alone? If I was to write it, it would not be for a while...
> 
> Have a good day/night wherever you are!
> 
> PS: Here is some shameful advertising on my behalf, but I wrote a Christmas themed story that features Mama Yuuri and Papa Victor. Honestly, it's pretty sloppy because I churn out one chapter a day, but if anyone is starving for some parental Victuuri (and has low standards) feel free to check it out :)


	6. And you are not me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To bond with Yuri, Victor is beginning to realize he can't treat the boy as a younger version of himself. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Victor takes the time to sort through his feelings properly, to better understand his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you've been enjoying the festive season, no matter what you celebrate (or don't celebrate) and I know this update is a little late, but I was focusing on writing a short twelve chapter Christmas themed story, which is complete now. This means I can re-focus on this story, not that I ever forgot about it :)
> 
> I've been really busy with life lately, so this chapter isn't as long as the others. However I purposefully left it a little shorter as it's kind of a necessary chapter of Victor (finally) confronting his own feelings regarding Yuri(o)
> 
> I found it really hard to write this, as I usually prefer to switch POV'S in my writing, but it's nice to challenge myself. Next chapter will be similar to this one, only with Yuri(o), before I go back to writing in my usual style.

 

* * *

 

 

_And you are not me_

 

 

“I’m proud of you, Victor.” Yuuri said sincerely, arms wrapped around the man’s shoulders. “You’re finally stepping up, and taking responsibility.”

The words stung a little, but Victor knew Yuuri was just trying to be supportive. Really, he owed a lot to the Japanese male. Most lovers would have run for the hills if they found out he had a moody teenage son.

Because Victor Nikiforov wasn’t supposed to be a parent.

He was supposed to be charismatic, charming, always smiling at his adoring fans.

Not a father who scolded his son and carried him about.

No, that wasn’t appealing. That wasn’t _mysterious._ It was predictable, and frumpy, and scandalous considering his age. There was nothing attractive about carelessness. Nothing ambiguous or smoldering.

And Victor had relied on his reputation to keep him going. He’d always loved figure skating, but competing came with a price. He needed support. From coaches, from officials, from councils and countries. Without those things, he was nothing. Nothing but wasted talent.

So he had to sacrifice Yuri. It was necessary.

And maybe he’d used that as justification for what he’d done, but the truth was…

_I used it as an excuse. Because I was **scared.**_

Victor Nikiforov was supposed to be fearless. Even admitting to himself that he was scared was enough to horrify him.

But he had been. _Terrified._ He was young, and full of creativity, and not at all ready to take on the burden of a baby. And instead of confronting his fears, he’d ran from them, trying to forget the mistake he’d made with that Russian girl. He couldn’t even remember her name anymore…

What kind of man was he?

And the pathetic thing was…

_I’m still scared._

And Yuuri, ever empathetic and attuned to Victor, gave him a reassuring peck on the cheek, his face flushing at the bold action. He rarely initiated kisses, not unless he was in his seductive fatale mindset. “I’ll be right here to help you.” He promised with sweet truthfulness. “I know Yurio doesn’t like me much, but I’ll be here no matter. I _**promise** _ you.”

_What did I do to deserve this man?_

Yuuri may have had confidence issues, but Victor thought he was the loveliest human being on the planet. And not just physically. Yuuri’s personality was something rare, and his dedication nothing short of admirable.

And Victor realized as he returned the hug…

_I can’t let **either** of the Yuri/Yuuri’s down._

 

* * *

 

 

After he’d finished informing Yuuri of his decision, the male had gone back to cleaning out his bedroom, and Victor had retired to his own, wanting to take the time to ponder his course of action. It was befuddling to him, and he found himself resorting to the internet for help, propping his laptop up on his knees as he haplessly searched up parenting advice. Most, of which, happened to be useless or irrelevant. All of it was centered towards more regular father’s, and even his probing search into step-father’s and shared custody came up with nothing truly relatable. He hummed thoughtfully as he typed out a sentence.

_**Tips for parenting, for absent single father and ice skating champion** _

_**No results found for Tips for parenting, for absent single father and ice skating champion** _

_Of course._

He thought disparagingly.

_The situation is too unique for Google. Maybe I’m being too specific…_

Yet, all of the advice he found was truly contrary, and rather different to how he perceived parenting. In Russia, discipline was taken seriously, but these websites…

Were all about alternative methods. Call him a traditionalist, but…

_These punishments are too soft. They’d never work with Yuri._

He twisted his face at one of the websites.

_Never punish your child? What kind of nonsense is this? Yakov would have a fit if he read this._

The man had always been very stern with him, although it seemed he’d been rather lax with Yuri…

Or maybe Yuri was just different.

_Maybe Yuri is just a headache._

Victor certainly had a headache now.

The sound of the door sliding open made Victor snap the laptop closed hurriedly. For some reason, he didn’t want Yuuri to know his search history. It only made Victor feel more inadequate…

“Ah, Yuuri,” He greeted in a sultry voice, putting the laptop aside and rolling over, displaying his toned torso to the other male. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Really? You looked busy.” Yuuri said, eyeing the laptop curiously.

“Just Instagram.” Victor lied immediately, maintaining his seductive grin. “Are you ready for bed, my beautiful pork cutlet bowl?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a display of playfulness, but was left feeling disappointed (in more ways than one) when Yuuri shook his head regretfully.

“Sorry, Victor. But I need help moving my things in here. I want to get it done tonight.”

Victor deflated, but managed to keep his grin. “ _Da_ , anything for you, _moya lyubov.” (My love)_ Victor said brightly, slipping from bed and waltzing over to Yuuri. He saw the other male eyeing his naked torso, lingering particularly on his broad shoulders. He gestured for Yuuri to lead the way, and couldn’t resist slapping the man’s ass as he moved ahead.

Yuuri yelped, a mixture of surprise and a little something _else_. “Victor!” He hissed, looking around furtively. “Not in the hallways!”

“I just couldn’t resist.” Victor winked. “That plump ass of yours just begs to be-“ He stopped speaking when Yuuri suddenly bent down, displaying his rounded buttocks fully. He gulped, and his hands twitched. He wanted to grab a handful…

But then Yuuri suddenly straightened up, turning around and pushing a box into Victor’s chest. It wasn’t heavy, probably filled with clothes, yet Victor still gasped.

Yuuri gave him an entirely innocent smile. “Can you please put them in the room? I’ll have the spare drawers, but we’ll need to share closet space…”

“Fine.” Victor agreed. “Both fine.”

“ _Arigato_ , Victor.” Yuuri thanked. “Thank you for being so accommodating.”

“Accommodating? This is your home, Yuuri. You’re the one who is displaying great hospitality.” Victor refuted lightly. _“Moya dorogaya, ty slishkom dorogo.” (My darling, you are too precious.)_

“Victor…” Yuuri whined, blushing at the sweet words.

_“Vse verno, moy velikolepnyy katsudon.” (All true, my gorgeous katsudon.)_

_“Victor…”_

_“Your reactions are adorable, moya lyubov.” (My love.)_

“Ugh, you two are disgusting.” A revolted voice intoned, and the pair saw Yuri approaching, arms crossed and with a scowl on his delicate face. “Seriously. You make me gag.”

“Y-Yurio!” Yuuri stuttered, flustered. “We-“

“What are you doing here?” Victor asked calmly, eyebrows raised.

Yuri rolled his icy eyes obviously, and held up the plush dog he’d been carrying. He shook it sarcastically for good measure, and Victor bit his tongue to refrain from scolding the boy.

What was _wrong_ with him? He was supposed to be relaxed…

“I found this under the bed.” Yuri explained, and Yuuri accepted the well-worn plush carefully.

“I forgot about this.” Yuuri said softly. “My kaasan got me this when I landed my first jump in practice. She was so proud…”

Victor hummed fondly. “Yakov and his wife made me _Blini._ It was a nice day…”

Yuuri glanced to Yuri expectantly. “What did Yakov do for you, Yurio?”

Yuri clenched his jaw, and averted his eyes. “Nothing. He wasn’t there. I was practicing alone.”

Yuuri frowned. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Of course I did, idiot.” Yuri huffed, and Victor sent him a warning look.

**You said you’d try to be nice to him.** He communicated with stern eyes.

Yuri flipped his hair obstinately, a clear message. **I’m trying.**

Victor nodded subtly at a waiting Yuuri. **Try again.**

“Da.” Yuri said, with forced politeness. “I told him. But it wasn’t a big deal.”

“In other words, Yakov had told you to rest and you kept pushing yourself.” Victor said knowingly. “Is that when you sprained your ankle?”

“Tch.” Yuri uttered, refusing to answer.

Yuuri was still frowning though. “It still doesn’t seem right…” He said, stroking his old plush absentmindedly. “You should celebrate achievements like those.”

“I’m not some pansy who needs constant praise to keep going.” Yuri bit out.

“I know that,” Yuuri replied, no hint of aggression in his tone. “Still, everyone deserves a treat now and again. I think we should do something special for you, as a sort of late congratulations. Doesn’t that sound fun, Victor?”

_Nyet, actually. It sounds complicated._

But Victor couldn’t exactly object. “ _Da_.” He agreed.

Yuri’s eyes widened. “That really isn’t-“

“You should go to bed now, Yurio.” Yuuri spoke over the boy deliberately, a sly, scheming smile on his face. “We have practice tomorrow, after all.”

Yuri snapped his mouth shut, grunted, and stormed off in a slouch.

Victor released a sigh when he was out of sight. Every interaction with his son felt like a battle. Would it feel like this forever?

“Just remember,” Yuuri said, sensing Victor’s exasperation. “I’m here to help. You’re not doing this alone.”

_But **I’m** his papa. I have to do some of this alone. If Yuri sees weakness in my resolve, he’ll only be more stubborn._

Still…

_I love the man before me more than anything._

 

* * *

 

 

“Raise your arm more, Yuri!” Victor called across the ice, eyes examining his son sharply as he went about practicing. “It gets higher praise from the judges!”

Yuri obeyed his father without comment, but Victor still wasn’t satisfied.

_He’s too rough. There’s no delicacy in his skating._

“Poise, Yuri!” He called again, as patiently as he could manage.

Once again, Yuri obeyed, but Victor still pinched the bridge of his nose. Something just wasn’t _right_ , but he couldn’t figure out what it was. The second routine he’d been keeping was supposed to be beautiful and sensitive, not fiery and passionate. That was what Eros was for. Agape was about love.

“He’s amazing.” Yuuri breathed beside him, sipping steadily from a bottle of water. He was taking it in turns coaching the two of them, and it was Yuuri’s designated break time. “He’s learned the routine so quick. He must have fantastic memorization skills.”

“Memorization doesn’t make for a good performance.” He replied, clicking his tongue when Yuri fumbled on a jump. He knew the boy was tired after all of the drama, so he didn’t point out the mistake like he usually would have. Plus, it was plain impressive a boy Yuri’s age could land jumps with such a high success rate. “Yuri always picks up routines quickly, but he isn’t performing Agape with the right mind-frame.”

“Perhaps he just performs it a little different to you.” Yuuri said, leaning over the rink to better eye the younger skater. “Everyone has different emotions, Victor. You can’t expect him to make the routine his own if you force him to feel.”

Yuuri, Victor conceded, had a point.

“It doesn’t matter.” He responded curtly. “Yuri has the rest of the year to get it right. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re right.” Yuuri said with a pretty smile. “But just let him skate a little longer. He always looks so at home on the ice. It’s nice to see him happy.”

Victor cast his eyes back over to Yuri, allowing the rest of the music to play out. Indeed, it was nice to see him happy, though he wouldn’t voice that thought aloud.

Some overly proud part of him didn’t want to admit he couldn’t make his son happy. A deeply repressed part.

_I need to make him happy._

_**How?** _

Yuri wasn’t like him. He wasn’t easily satisfied. Flimsy gestures would mean nothing to the boy. There would be no material bribery or flowery words, as they wouldn’t work.

And perhaps he didn’t want them to work. Maybe, just maybe, with Yuuri’s help…

“Oi! Old man!” An irritated Yuri shouted. “Stop looking so vacant and pay attention to me!”

_And a whole lot of luck,_

_**Maybe**_ he could be an adequate father.

“Ah, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I was just thinking of a way to improve your skating. I know you’ve done some ballet in the past, but perhaps it’s time for a refresher…”

“I can help!” Yuuri piped, although he seemed a little embarrassed at his own audacious offer. “I mean,” He went on a little less-confidently at the surprised looks. “I’ve done a lot of ballet, I could probably give you a few amateur lessons. If not, I’m sure my old teacher would be more than willing-“

_“Nyet.”_ Yuri interrupted coldly. “You will do, for now.”

Yuuri smiled widely at the acceptance. “Really?”

“Of course,” Yuri skated over, and stepped off of the ice with a puff. “I think it would be interesting to see how elegant a pig can be.”

Victor sent him a reproachful look, but Yuuri’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. It seemed he had thick-skin when it came to Yuri’s insults.

“Great!” Yuuri chirped, and in a movement that shocked Victor and Yuri both, he leant forward and gave Yuri a prompt, short hug, moving away again before Yuri had time to truly react. “We’ll start this afternoon! I’ll borrow my friend’s studio.” Then, he directed his smile at Victor. “I’m going to start warming up again, is that okay, Victor?”

Stunned, the two bobbed their head in tandem, looking so similar that Yuuri barely stifled a laugh. Sending the two a wave, he seamlessly slid onto the ice, taking a lap.

Upon not hearing a nasty comment, or at the least a scoff, he glanced downwards at Yuri. There was a strange expression on the boy’s face. His cheeks were pink, and eyes wide, but what seemed bizarre was the small, near indistinguishable smile that tugged at his lips. Victor had seen it before, but never at a display of affection. They usually made Yuuri snarl.

Noticing Victor’s attention, Yuri flushed. “What!?” He snapped, clearly embarrassed. He turned away, and Victor smirked.

_If he gets this embarrassed by a mere hug, perhaps he’ll have to be hugged more often. It’s certainly amusing._

“So?” Yuri said expectantly after a few moments. “What did you think?”

Victor blinked.

“About my _skating.”_

“Oh.” He smiled. “You aren’t as good as you think.”

_**“What?”** _

“There is room for improvement, Yuri. Which is why I’m here. The ballet will help, but you need to understand what Agape is about for yourself.”

“It’s a choreography, created by you.”

Victor ruffled the confused boy’s hair. “You have all year to figure it out.” He comforted.

_And all year to drive me mad._

 

* * *

 

In the end, the truth of the matter was, Yuri _**wasn’t**_ Victor.

They may have shared some physical traits, and maybe a few characteristics, but asides from that (and the obvious ice skating talent) they were completely different.

And perhaps that was one of the reasons why Victor had been struggling to understand him.

He’d thought his son would be more like him, naively believed that treating Yuri like a younger version of himself would work. When in reality, Yuri needed _**more.**_

He himself had never had a great childhood. It wasn’t something he spoke about often (or at all) but he’d still managed to end up as, well, _**him.**_

Struggle made you stronger, hardship made you heartier, and a good relationship with your father really, in the scheme of things, didn’t matter that much.

But Yuri was not him.

And Yuri required more. _Needed_ more. He didn’t form friendships like Victor did, nor did he seek companionship. Of any variety.

Although that was probably a good thing, in some ways. Victor doubted he had to worry about Yuri impregnating anyone anytime soon. Or at all. The boy had never made his preferences known, and Victor didn’t intend to assume.

Yuri isolated himself, and ignored others. He was cold and caustic.

Just because Victor never needed a family, it didn’t mean Yuri was the same.

They were different.

He’d made his own family, but Yuri wouldn’t do the same.

Which meant Victor needed to form his own, and bring the boy into it.

At least he already had his beloved Yuuri.

**_Moy rebenok ne ya._ **

_(My child is not me.)_

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Once again, I'm sorry for the late update. I will be resuming my usual schedule again now though, so hopefully there should be no more delays in my writing. 
> 
> As always, THANK YOU to the kind people who leave comments and Kudos. You guys always inspire me to keep going, even if I feel a little demotivated. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like, but no pressure :)
> 
> I hope you're all having a good day/night, wherever you are!


	7. The distance in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introspective Yuri broods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Like I'd said in the previous chapter, I had another chapter written solely of one POV. It's Yuri's, and it's rather short as it was made as an interlude of sorts. Just an opportunity for Yuri to ponder about life, otherwise he might get confused ;)
> 
> I was going to wait to post this, and stick to my schedule, but since it's going to be a new year soon and all, I thought I'd give you a nice welcome to 2017!
> 
> So please enjoy this small chapter!

 

* * *

 

 

_The distance in your eyes_

 

_Yuuri hugged me._

It was a disbelieving thought that still echoed in Yuri’s head, hours later. Practice had concluded, and Yuuri and Victor were currently soaking in the hot spring, no doubt doing something devious before the customers started entering…

Yuuri hugged me.

Yuri had been embraced before, of course. Squeezing hugs by Mila, and rough ones by Yakov, not to mention the fans who held onto him desperately whenever they encountered him. But Yuuri’s had been...different.

For one thing, it had seemed warmer, more intimate, and there was a softness to Yuuri’s body that was absent in others. No doubt the small excess weight he could never completely manage to shed. He wasn’t all hard lines and unforgiving muscles, even in his fittest state. He also had a soothing presence…

And Yuri had enjoyed the embrace. Very much. It was the most comforting action he’d had in years, the last being when his grandfather ruffled his hair before he got sick.

It was just…different, somehow. He couldn’t exactly identify the main difference.

Not yet, at least.

Yuri sighed, staring down at the ballet shoes before him. He hadn’t thought to pack a pair of his own, so Yuuri had provided him with a well-worn pair he’d worn in his childhood. Yuri would wear them until he was properly fitted for a new pair. Yuri’s old teacher, an exuberant woman passionate about ballet and skating both, had taken his feet measurements and promised to find the perfect set. Honestly, it was surreal to think of the Japanese pig as an instructor, although he seemed to know what he was talking about…

He was a nice teacher, though. Patient. He never growled at Yuri, even when the teen was being overtly rude about something, like when he obnoxiously compared the quaint ballet studio to the ones he had attended in Russia. No, the Japanese man only laughed sheepishly, having the nerve to actually agree, but adding that the facilities didn’t matter if you had a capable teacher.

Yuri had then given a scoff, and returned to his stretching on the beam that ran along the back wall of the studio. The lesson had been rather lax, a reminder, if anything, and this stood in stark contrast to Victor’s own teaching methods. The man, for all of his charisma and charm, was a harsh coach, and an inexperienced one, at that. Yuri was beginning to realize that Victor had no idea what he was doing. He’d never been in a position with so much responsibility before.

Well, he had. But that had ended in disaster. Yuri could only hope his coaching career differed from his fathering one. And that it was considerably more successful.

But despite his sarcastic attitude, he truly hoped Victor would live up to the task. _**Both**_ of them. His father had always had a large load of potential. He was absurdly talented at nearly everything…

Except parenting. And coaching, apparently.

_Practice makes perfect?_

Yuri sighed, stretching a leg into the air exasperatedly. He’d been thinking too much lately. He wasn’t like himself. This place, Yuuri and Victor…

They made him feel strange. Like he was missing something. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, especially when he’d tried so hard to bury that sentiment his entire life. Because something _had_ been missing. His parents. And perhaps it was cliché, but Yuri had always _wanted_ -

_**Stop.** _

Yuri refused to be pathetic. He wasn’t some sniffling brat. He was Russia’s ice tiger, and their rising star. He would win more medals than Victor ever did, and he’d show everyone he wasn’t some useless, loveless orphan. He could _be_ something.

_Yuuri is soft._

“Ugh…” Yuri moaned, slapping a hand over his forehead. “Why do you betray me, brain…”

_And his eyes..._

Yuuri was an expressive man, but perhaps his most expressive feature, where his eyes. Yuri had seen them water with emotion, smolder with passion, twinkle with delight, and today, regard him with warmth. It was a gaze that enveloped him, and it only added to the safe feeling he had experienced when Yuuri had hugged him.

There was no guardedness. Everything was open.

_For people to exploit his weaknesses._

Yuuri was a fool, there was no doubt about that. He was willingly assisting a younger competitor destined to knock him off the podium if he _didn’t_ retire after this season. Adding to that, said younger competitor was his _boyfriend’s_ (Yuri twisted up his face here) underage son. A child kept secret from the world to protect his reputation.

_Yuuri doesn’t hide anything._

Not like his father. Yuri could never tell what the man was completely thinking, as he always kept himself protected. Distant. Distant from everything but the ice, and more recently, distant from anyone except for Yuuri.

Yuri had never seen Victor so open about his feelings before. He had been beginning to think the man was just some perfectly manufactured product, a robot who comprehended human emotions, but struggled to feel them sincerely. He was a master of acting them out, though, when others were around at least…

Yuri could vividly recall when Victor turned twenty five. The man had pouted about growing older for a solid week, and his birthday had come accompanied by speculation about the man’s career. Could the man continue competing in peak condition as he got older? Was he strong enough to compare to the newer skaters who boasted so much promise? And, of course…

When would one of Russia’s most eligible bachelors be settling down? The press had the tendency to write gossip articles about him (like every other celebrity) and trashy magazines were always desperate to find some source that claimed they knew who the Russian male was dating. Of course, they never found any information, which meant they fabricated it completely. Yuri still snorted whenever he remembered Mila’s disgust at one of the headlines. Victor had had an arm wrapped around her, and some sleazy photographer had taken a shot. The headline had been something about ‘Victor Nikiforov robbing the cradle’.

Yuri remembered shredding that magazine into a hundred tiny pieces, and Mila’s concerned voice asking if he was alright. She was a nice girl, always worrying about others.

She was also fierce, and just to counter what had been written about her, she’d done an interview with an American magazine about her ‘sexuality’. Which meant, of course, she’d undergone a lot of criticism, but Mila hadn’t cared. She did what she wanted, and didn’t care that much about the consequences. In that respect, she was the opposite of Victor.

Yuri could never envision the man telling any media worker he had a son. Although he’d certainly relaxed in being open about his blooming relationship with Yuuri…

Why _him_ though? What was so _different_ about Yuuri Katsuki?

Or, more accurately, what was _wrong_ with Victor Nikiforov?

Yuri would have given anything for those eyes to warmly regard him as a child, the same way Yuuri’s had earlier that day when he gave him that hug. He probably would have wept if the man showed the slightest paternal interest in him. Yes, he knew he’d started pushing him away, but…

Who started it, really? Was it Yuri who pushed Victor away, or vice versa? He couldn’t remember his infanthood and toddler years with perfect clarity. Had he done something to dull those eyes? Was it his own fault that Victor had ignored him? Yuri knew there was a myriad of reasons Victor had pushed him away, but what was the _main_ one? The driving force behind the mess that was their relationship?

And now they were trying to fix it. Now they were trying to pretend those years never happened and start afresh. It wasn’t something easy to do, and Yuri wondered…

_Who exactly is it harder for?_

Could they overcome their differences? Would Victor _finally_ look at him the same way a father would look at their child? Would his eyes be warm like Yuuri’s?

Would it **work?**

_Well,_

Yuri thought, idly fiddling with his phone.

_There’s only one way to find out._

At the least, he may receive one of Yuuri’s warm hugs again.

Not that he’d let on he enjoyed them. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's short. Yes, it's kind of boring. But I felt like I needed to do the last two chapters. The next one will certainly be more interesting!
> 
> As always, THANK YOU to everyone who comments and leaves Kudos. You guys are amazing!
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like, but no pressure. 
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!
> 
> PS:
> 
> Here's a small excerpt from the next chapter since one of you guys mentioned liking them...
> 
>  
> 
> “We can’t have sex in the changing room. Not while Yuri’s out on the rink!”
> 
> “Why? It has been too long…”
> 
> “It’s been one night, exactly. And that’s because Yuri fell asleep in our room!”
> 
> “It was your idea to watch that movie…”
> 
> “He’s never seen a Studio Ghibli film before, Victor. Ever!”
> 
> “I do not see the big deal.”
> 
>  
> 
> Yuri sighed as he finished yet another lap on the ice. Victor had followed after Yuuri when the Japanese man had finished his practice, and he had yet to return.
> 
> Whatever they were doing, he expected, it must have been important.


	8. The lengths that I will go to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri realizes the repercussions of not competing for a year, and Yuuri is a watchful influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! First of all, sorry for the late-ish update again. I didn't like the first draft of this so I re-wrote it completely, which took a little time. Also, I had a little trouble using the archive again. Still learning! I hope you're all doing well, and that you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Also, last chapter some observant people drew to my attention that I'd kind of forgotten Yuri's grandfather, and how Yuri's year of not competing would impact on his care. I wish I could say I had it totally figured out, but honestly I forgot completely so THANK YOU for filling in the gaps!
> 
> On with the chapter, I suppose. :)

 

* * *

 

 

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing!” Minako cooed, looking Yuri up and down as he tested out the new ballet shoes on his feet. They had arrived much earlier than anticipated, and when Yuuri had asked Minako how, she’d laughed and said she had a contact who custom designed everything for her, and another who sped up the shipment process. Either way, Yuri’s feet were now encased in a perfectly fitting black pair, and he had a selection of others, just in case they grew too worn. Some, of which, happened to be _pink_ , much to Yuri’s disgust. Apparently, since Yuri’s feet were so dainty, the shoe maker had presumed he was a _girl_. This annoyed him greatly, but he refrained from snapping. It would be ungrateful.

Still, he wouldn’t put up with this woman treating him like a child. He was an ice _tiger_ , not an ice _kitten._ “I am not cute.” He growled, crossing his arms adamantly.

But Minako appeared undaunted by his intimidation attempt. It seemed things like this tended to fly over her head. That, or she was tough enough not to care. “Oh yes you are.” She replied flippantly, continuing before Yuri could growl again. “Take a compliment when you receive it, Plisetsky-kun. A tip from one former competitor to another. I may have been a ballerina, but the same rule applies. Whining about praise isn’t dignified.”

Yuri scowled, and opened his mouth, however Yuuri, who had been watching the scene with a grin, interjected suddenly. “Arigato, Minako-san. I owe you for this big time.”

The woman chortled. “You better believe it, Yuuri-kun! But I have no qualms about helping out my most accomplished student. Especially when he’s working so hard.”

Yuuri blushed. “Thank you, Minako-san…” He said bashfully.

Minako jabbed a thumb at the courteous Japanese male. “That’s how you accept a compliment, Plisetsky-kun, watch and learn from your senpai.”

“’Senpai’?” Yuri repeated in confusion. “What’s a senpai?”

“It isn’t like that, Minako-san.” Yuuri hastily said. “Yuri isn’t my underclassman.”

“Sensei, then.” Minako amended. “You _are_ teaching him ballet. Speaking of which, I recommend you teach him the more…feminine aspects. It suits his appearance.”

“I _have_ done ballet before.” Yuri said sniffily.

“He has.” Yuuri affirmed. “This is more of a refresher for him. Victor insisted.”

“Speaking of Victor,” Minako hummed thoughtfully. “Where is he?”

“He’s busy.” Yuuri answered shortly. He wasn’t willing to elaborate. The truth was, he was trying to organise the best way for more of Yuri’s belongings to be sent to Japan. The boy had only packed a small suitcase, and it wasn’t enough to last for a whole year. There was only so many times Yuri could borrow someone else’s clothing before he lost it. Despite Yuri being a responsible young male, he was also a teenager, and it was clear he hadn’t done his own laundry for a very long time. No doubt he paid others to do it for him. Victor had snorted at this, but had been abashed when Yuuri challengingly asked him when _he’d_ last done his own washing. The answer was, a _very_ long time. Even in Japan, Victor didn’t have to lift a finger as Yuuri’s mother insisted on doing his laundry. The Japanese man decided the two Russian’s needed to learn how to do their own chores. Or rather, re-learn.

Even now, Yuri was dressed in the smallest shirt Yuuri could find for him, and he didn’t appreciate the colourful pattern. Yuri was still small for his age, and the shirt Yuuri had given him was one the Japanese man had worn as a younger child.

Really, Yuuri had to inwardly admit, Yuri _did_ look rather cute. Like a little kid. It made his dormant Kaasan instincts rise, and he wanted to hug him tightly.

“I see.” Minako didn’t push. She was tactful, in that regard, and respected Yuuri and Victor’s privacy, unlike _some_ Yuuri didn’t want to mention. “Well, I’m sure Plisetsky-kun could benefit from some remedial lessons. If you need any help, Yuuri-kun, don’t hesitate to ask. All of my students these days are toddlers and young children, it would be a nice change.”

Minako was a talented instructor, and Yuuri often wondered why she didn’t try to teach those of an advanced level. She definitely had the skills. She was almost wasted in their small town. _Almost_ , as Yuuri wouldn’t have progressed so far without her help.

“I should be fine,” Yuuri smiled. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Ah, I can’t believe the shy wallflower I knew as a child has evolved so much. Confidence suits you, Yuuri-kun. Remind me to thank Victor-san when I see him next.”

_Like Victor needs **more** compliments._

Yuuri and Yuri thought simultaneously. The man already received an ungodly amount.

Minako picked up her dark navy duffel, slinging it over her shoulder. “I trust you can lock up once you’ve finished?” She’d given Yuuri her spare key to access the studio when she wasn’t present. “I doubt there’s any thieves around here, but it’s always best to be safe.”

“You can count on me, Minako-san.”

Minako waved, and made for the exit, however she paused suddenly, rifling in her pocket and pulling out a small slip of paper. “Before I forget,” She started, extending it to Yuri. The blond male accepted it confusedly. “This is the receipt for the pointe shoes we purchased. I got you a discount, but you’ll have to pay that amount in one instalment.”

Yuri looked down, and promptly paled at the price. The money had been translated from the Japanese yen to the Russian Ruble, and although it was a thoughtful gesture, it was also horrifying. He knew the set of ballet shoes were nice, but he hadn’t expected them to be this expensive. In fact, he’d forgotten completely about payment. His mind had been so preoccupied lately, he’d forgotten about currency…

_There’s no way I can pay this._

Yuri thought in horror, tallying up the prices in his head.

_If I was competing, the expenses would be covered, but without that…_

**_I’m not competing for a year._ **

A sudden realization struck him, and he gasped.

_I don’t have enough money saved up. I didn’t think this would happen, I wasn’t prepared…_

His grandfather.

_Oh God, what am I going to do about Grandpa? I need to pay his medical bills, and his housing ones as well._

The elderly man was in an expensive facility, Yuri doubted he could continue to make adequate payments if he wasn’t earning money through competing. His grandfather would have to change homes, and he wouldn’t receive the same high-quality care that Yuri had wanted for him…

“Yuri?” A voice filtered through the distressed fog of his mind. “Yuri?” It repeated, and Yuri shook his head, trying to re-surface from his panicked haze. “Yuri!?”

He took a calming breath. “What?” He snapped, not looking away from the cursed receipt in his trembling hand.

Yuuri peered at him, brown eyes concerned. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone all white. You look like you’re about to have a panic attack…”

Yuri noticed his shallow breathing, and was glad to see that Minako had left sometime during his unexpected anxiety attack. He didn’t want to look weak, especially around a woman he didn’t know very well. It was bad enough he’d appeared weak in front of Yuuri and Victor before, he didn’t want to add anyone else to that rapidly lengthening list.

“I’m fine.” He said gruffly, and Yuuri appeared entirely unconvinced. “I mean it. It’s none of your business anyway, Japanese pig.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, and Yuri jutted his chin out stubbornly. What was with Victor and Yuuri raising their eyebrows at him? Like he was some difficult brat…

“I won’t force you to tell me.” It’s an honest statement, and Yuri blinks in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that, _at all_. If it were Yakov or Victor, they’d force him to talk. That, or ignore him completely. But this… “But if you need help, you can always come to me, okay?”

This was a display of trust.

Yuuri _trusted_ him enough to come to him if he needed help. Trusted Yuri enough to let him handle things in the meantime. And if he didn’t…

He was at least pretending he did, to spare Yuri’s dignity.

“Thanks.” He grunted, and for once, it wasn’t sarcastic. “Are you going to teach me now, or not?”

Yuuri nodded. “We’ll continue where we left off yesterday. You start doing some stretches to warm up, okay? I’m going to call Victor. We should go eat lunch somewhere after we’ve finished. Would you like that?”

_Actually, that’s the last thing I need. Buying lunch and depleting my funds further._

Yuri didn’t voice his sarcastic remark, he merely grunted. Again.

“Articulate when you can.” Yuuri commented, and Yuri glared after him as he ducked out of the dancing room. Had that Japanese swine just _berated_ him? Was this the same male who sobbed in the bathroom last year? The same male who used to be painfully shy?

_Victor has certainly influenced him. I can’t tell if I like his new attitude or not._

Either way, he had limbs to stretch. He didn’t need strained muscles to add to his list of problems. If he had the year off, he may as well better himself as much as possible.

 

* * *

 

_“Good morning, my beautiful pork cutlet bowl.”_

Victor’s greeting is bright, and Yuuri smiles without thought. It was a common reaction to Victor’s joy. The man’s happiness was contagious. “Good morning.” He returned a little bashfully. Hearing Victor speak so intimately to him still made him feel flustered, despite its commonness. “I’m guessing your negotiations went well?”

_“Da.”_ Victor chirped through the receiver, and Yuuri adjusted his hold on his iPhone. He was currently inside the small kitchenette the studio boasted, leaning against the counter as he fretted nervously. He was worried about Yuri’s unexpected anxiety attack, and couldn’t help but call the man to share his concerns. He knew it was going behind the blond male’s back, but he wanted to be prepared to help Yurio if it happened again. “ _Yakov will drop some of Yuri’s belongings off personally in the next few days.”_

Yuuri felt relieved, if not a little suspicious. “That’s very generous of him.”

_“No matter what happens, he still sees Yuri as his student. He wants to make sure I’m…treating him well, also.”_

The admittance clearly strained Victor, but Yuuri was grateful the man was being honest. “That’s good.” He replied.

_If Yuri doesn’t want to speak to Victor or me, he may approach Yakov. Maybe._

Yuuri couldn’t visualise the stubborn boy approaching anyone for help. He was too prideful. Still, he didn’t want to completely betray Yuri’s trust by having Victor or Yakov forcing him into speaking about his problems. Not when they were beginning to make process.

_We have to remember that Yuri is independent. If we disrespect that…_

_“You sound preoccupied, moya lyubov.”_

“Really?” Yuuri said sheepishly. “How can you tell?”

_“Just the tone in your voice. What’s wrong, Yuuri?”_

Yuuri sighed, checking behind him to make sure Yuri wasn’t lurking about. “Yuri’s pointe shoes came in.”

_“Excellent.”_ Victor said, although Yuuri could sense his confusion. Why would Yuuri be concerned about that? _“Are they what you ordered? Are they in good condition?”_

“They’re fine.” Yuuri assured. “Minako’s supplier specialises in making men’s pointe shoes, so they are always good quality. Not that it matters, since Yuri’s still in a kid’s size at the moment.” Such a fact had embarrassed the boy, so he hadn’t mentioned it before now. “But…” He trailed off, not knowing how to breach the subject.

_“But?”_ Victor encouraged.

“He seemed…taken-aback when he received the receipt.” Yuuri phrased delicately. “Do you know much of his situation? Regarding…” He took a deep breath, speaking about money always felt incredibly intrusive to him… “His situation, you know, with…”

_“Ruble?”_ Victor guessed accurately.

“Yes.” Yuuri said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I know it isn’t my business-“

_“Of course it is.”_ Victor interrupted. _“You and I are working together. If it is my business, it is yours also.”_

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose. “Victor, I don’t think it’s _your_ business either. Yuri has been running his finances privately, right?”

_“As much as his maths skills will allow, da.”_

“Then we can’t just go butting in-“

_“Isn’t that what a father is supposed to do?”_

Yuuri barely held back a groan. Victor was _**hopeless.**_ “That will only make him angry, Victor. He’s been relying on himself for so long-“

“KATSUKI!” An annoyed voice called from the practice room. “ARE YOU COMING, OR NOT?”

“I have to go.” Yuuri hissed quietly to Victor. “Don’t…say anything to him.” Without waiting for a response, he promptly hung up, placing his phone aside. The tights he was wearing wouldn’t allow for it. “Coming!” He called back, as brightly as he could manage.

_For now, I just need to focus on ballet._

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you feel like for lunch, Yuri?”

Yuri grunted at the question, shoving his new ballet shoes into his backpack and doing up the zipper. He’d finally finished his lesson with Yuuri, and was surprised to find he quite liked Yuuri’s gentle and patient teaching methods. He wasn’t gruff like Yakov and Victor.

“We can have anything you want.” Yuuri offered, waiting for Yuri to join his side before he locked up the studio safely. “I’m afraid there’s not much variety in a small town like this, though…”

Yuri shrugged. He didn’t have much of an appetite after the nasty surprise he’d received in the form of that payment notice. “I don’t care.”

“There’s a place that sells Western food here. Do you like Western food?”

Yuri grimaced. “Too heavy.” He’d had a burger in America once, and it had made him feel sickly. That may have been because of his healthy diet, though…

It was still better than the unholy concoction that was vegemite he’d sampled in Australia. Or the hakarl Mila had tricked him into eating in Iceland…

It still made him feel nauseous to think about the revolting delicacy.

“You’re probably right.” Yuuri mused. “Victor wouldn’t approve, anyhow. I’m not supposed to be eating anything with high calories. I gain weight really easily…” The pair stepped onto the street, and Yuri raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

_I always thought he was just a glutton…_

Now he felt a little bad. Yuuri’s weight difficulties didn’t stem solely from him being a gluttonous pig. It was partially due to his metabolism. Yuri had never had problems with his own before, if anything, it was a little _too_ good. That, or he never ate enough…

But he was busy. He had a life to maintain, a figure to keep, and a body that had become accustomed to a lack of meals at an _extremely_ young age. He remembered those years keenly, where his stomach would ache with hunger, and all he truly wanted was a scrap of bread to ease the incessant hunger cramps.

“And I’m a comfort eater. So it’s not a great combination.”

“I didn’t ask.” Yuri said dourly, then… “Where’s Victor? Is he coming?”

“Do you want him to come?” Yuuri inquired seriously. “Because if you need a break, I can always-“

“You’d do that for me?” Yuri was surprised. He knew the Japanese male _adored_ Victor. For him to be offering to spend time away from the man voluntarily …

_Unnatural._

It just seemed unnatural.

“Of course I would. I want you to be _happy_ here, Yuri.”

_The sincerity is almost enough to make me vomit. What is **with** this guy? Is this why Victor likes him so much? His considerate attitude?_

“I know it must be hard being around your fa-…” He trailed off when Yuri sent him a deadly look. “Victor all of the time. Especially when you two bicker…”

Yuri suddenly felt a little guilty. He’d forgotten how his bickering with Victor would impact on Yuuri. The man was hosting them, and it was plain rude to be giving him trouble when he was being so generous. If his grandpa were here, he’d clip him over the ears…

_Grandpa._

Just thinking about the man was enough to send Yuri into an acute panic attack.

_I’m here discussing something as petty as lunch plans whilst he’s losing his financial support. What if they’ve already mentioned a lag in payments to him? I haven’t received any calls, I might have some emails though…_

“Whatever.” Yuri managed to get out, brow crinkling in worried thought.

_I prefer to check those emails on a computer, but I didn’t bring one. Maybe the Japanese pig would be inclined to let me borrow his. I could suck up to him…_

A regrettable, but necessary task.

“Can we have lunch at home?” He asked stoically, and he felt positively wretched when Yuuri lit up in joy at the request, clearly elated he had called the inn his ‘home’. It was a low move, but Yuri was willing to make it for the sake of his grandfather. Be manipulative…

_Not like_ _**him** though. Never like **him.**_

“S-sure!” Yuuri stuttered, rubbing at his cheek with a grin. “Kaasan will surely have leftovers. If not, I can make us something…”

With an inward grimace, Yuri went further. “Maybe I can help you cook.” His offer was stunted, but he thought it sounded genuine enough. With no ulterior motives. “It’s only fair I assist you after all of the things you’ve been doing for me.”

Yuuri looked genuinely touched, and Yuri felt dirty.

_It’s no wonder Victor is so protective. Yuuri is ridiculously gullible._

“I’d love that, Yuri. Cooking with someone is a lovely experience. I remember when my Kaasan first taught me how to make rice balls-“ Yuuri blabbered on as the two changed directions and started heading back for the inn. He chattered the whole way back, filling Yuri’s tense silence. If the blond boy had really been paying attention, he would have noticed the concerned look on the Japanese male’s face and his observant eyes.

When they finally reached the inn, Yuri silently entered, returning to the room he had stolen to place down his backpack and inch off his shoes. Yuuri had done his at the doorway, but Yuri didn’t like leaving his absurdly expensive sports shoes laying around. That was how they got stolen. In Russia, at least. Who knew what tourist would take them…

If they were one of his fangirls, they’d probably make a shrine with them. Yuri admired all of the support he received, but really wondered if some of his fans needed professional help. He’d seen a picture of a girl with his face tattooed on her body, it still disturbed him greatly…

Victor always reacted well to those signs of adoration though. He found them flattering.

Yuri just wondered what could have possibly possessed that girl to pay for that horrible tattoo. It didn’t even _look_ like him, and the place she’d chosen it for…

Let’s just say it wasn’t for children’s eyes.

And Yuri sometimes liked to choose when he could be a child.

“We can make them.” Yuri decided. Rice balls sounded like an easy enough recipe. There was a lower likelihood of him screwing up and making a mess.

Yuuri nodded wordlessly, still with a stupidly happy smile on his face.

The kitchen, which was usually bustling with work, was momentarily empty, and Yuuri deftly went about preparing the ingredients they needed, asking Yuri to help here and there. It was an almost mindless experience, and Yuri found himself growing distracted from his anxiety, focusing solely on the task at hand, and Yuuri’s cheery instructions.

_Yuuri was right. Cooking with someone is a nice experience._

And Yuuri was so kind to him. He didn’t grow impatient when Yuri fumbled with the nori seaweed, nor did he tut when Yuri’s rice balls turned into more of a gluggy mess opposed to the firmly shaped ones he himself had created.

Victor had ghosted into the kitchen midway through their preparations, but had settled down on the floor to wait quietly, attention fully diverted to his phone.

Well, that was what Yuri thought at least. In reality, both Victor and Yuuri were paying keen attention to him, and exchanging communicating glances every so often.

Yuri wasn’t as subtle as he thought. He’d never been good at hiding his emotions, nor had he had enough practice to do it convincingly.

“Well done Yuri!” Yuuri praised upon seeing the finishing product. The rice balls were arranged neatly onto a plate, Yuri’s monstrous disasters an eyesore compared to Yuuri’s perfectly rounded onigiri. “This onigiri looks delicious!”

Yet, despite knowing that his rice balls were horrendous, Yuri felt…almost proud.

He hadn’t cooked with anyone in a long time, and it had been even longer since he was taught how to make something. And Yuuri said he was _**proud.**_

That felt like a momentous accomplishment to Yuri. When was the last time someone expressed how proud they were of him? He didn’t see his grandpa that often anymore, and Yakov had never been one to express himself with words…

A hand was suddenly touching his forehead, and he jerked away with a scowl. “What the hell are you doing?” He demanded, glaring at Yuuri, who still had his arm extended.

“You were smiling.” Victor spoke up, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Yuuri thought you might have been delirious with fever. You should smile more often.”

Yuri’s cheeks flushed, but he maintained his scowl. “Whatever.” He slumped down as far away from Victor as he could manage, and stuffed one of the onigiri into his mouth. Despite its obvious blandness (they had chosen not to put a filling inside) it tasted rather delicious. It was light, and didn’t weigh heavily in his stomach like other food tended to do.

Yuuri joined them (practically sitting on Victor’s lap, of course) and bravely selected one that Yuri had concocted, chewing on it without even a wince. “This is really good, Yuri.” He praised. Yuri looked to him sceptically, and Yuuri’s smile turned a little sheepish. “Well, there’s always room for improvement.”

“In rice balls?”

“In any dish. It took me a long time to learn how to make katsudon, and even now it isn’t as good as my kaasan’s.”

“I think it is, Yuuri.” Victor piped supportively. “Everything you make is delicious.” Then, lower, so that Yuri could only just hear, he murmured. “ _You’re_ delicious.”

“You couldn’t have said that an octave lower?” Yuri said irritably. “Can’t you save those disgusting remarks for when I’m _not_ around?”

“Don’t be so immature, Yuri. Adults speak this way to the one’s they love.” Victor replied, smoothing Yuuri’s hair away from his forehead. “It means they adore one another.”

“No, it means they’re brainwashed into thinking that that lovey dovey bullshit is necessary.”

“There is nothing wrong with expressing your love.”

“There is with forcing people to watch it.”

Yuuri sighed, aggrieved, and pushed away from Victor’s hold. “Can you two have one conversation without arguing? I just want to have a _peaceful_ lunch.”

Suddenly remembering his plan to commandeer Yuuri’s computer, Yuri promptly fell silent. Yuuri wasn’t going to lend him anything if he was pissed off, and asking Victor would leave a bad taste in his mouth.

_I could probably call Yuuko and ask her, but the triplets would be too nosy._

The rest of lunch, thanks to Yuuri’s outburst, was silent, and once the rice balls were gone (Yuri was glad to note even his were eaten) he immediately offered to help clean up. Yuuri’s family didn’t have a dish-washer, which meant washing and drying by hand was needed after each mealtime, lest dishes pile up.

Yuuri, pleasantly surprised, generously decided to wash, and left Yuri to fumble with the drying cloth and dishes. He was so focused on the methodical cleaning actions that he almost forgot why he was doing them in the first place, before Yuuri interrupted their diligent quiet. “So, Yurio…” Yuuri addressed calmly, scrubbing in a circular motion.

_“Da?”_

“What do you really want?”

And Yuri froze, nearly dropping the plate he’d been drying. He knew his reaction was an admission of guilt, a clear indication of his scheming, and he _knew_ he should be playing it cool, denying everything, but…

_**“How did you know?”**_ He was gobsmacked. He didn’t think Yuuri had a suspicious enough mind to doubt Yuri’s supposedly good intentions…

“I’m not stupid.” Yuuri could have sounded a lot harsher, but he only sounded mildly annoyed at the assumption. “I can tell when someone’s trying to suck up to me. Victor is exactly the same when he wants something.” Seeing Yuri’s murderous glower, he backtracked. “Or rather, I have enough experience with children to sense it. Growing up in an inn means little kids are always around. That, and I sometimes babysit for Yuuko-chan.”

“I am **not** -“

“There’s nothing wrong with being a child.” Yuuri interrupted, softening. “You should enjoy these years, Yuri.”

“What years?” He blurted bitterly. “Maybe you had the chance for a childhood, but I-“

“You’re here with Victor and I. _We’re_ taking care of you. This is your time.” Yuuri said unwaveringly, reaching out tentatively to touch Yuri’s face. It was a gentle, borderline _maternal_ gesture, and it should have been disturbing. Yuri’s mother had never been sweet and gentle, nor had she touched him so delicately. Yet…

He closed his eyes. Yuuri’s palm was damp from the washing, and he could feel the grooves unique to the man’s hands touching his cheek.

“What’s going on?” Victor’s startled voice broke him from his reverie, and he moved away. The man seemed perplexed, and a little disturbed himself. He’d left for the bathroom (conveniently after mealtime, Yuuri had murmured) and had returned to the strange scene.

“The computer.” He mumbled, eyes directed to the floor. “I want to borrow your laptop, Yuuri.” He looked up again, sensing Victor’s disapproving look. _**“Please.”**_

“Oh, of course.” Yuuri replied earnestly. “You don’t need to, I mean-“ He cut himself off as Victor cocked his head curiously. He obviously didn’t want the man knowing about Yuri’s scheming. “Of course you can, Yuri. You can use my laptop whenever you want.”

Yuri held back a momentous sigh of relief, and Victor quirked an eyebrow.

“You could have asked me, Yuri.” He voiced in confusion. “I would have let you-“

“It doesn’t matter who he asked.” Yuuri interjected quickly, sensing oncoming bickering. “So long as he asked someone. _Right,_ Victor?”

_“Da,”_ Victor ran a hand through his hair. “Of course.”

Yuuri rewarded Victor with a beautiful smile, drawing the man into a short smooch. “Can you put the dishes away while I set my laptop up for Yuuri?” He breathed against Victor’s moist lips. “Please?”

Victor nodded dumbly. _“Da._ Anything for you.”

Yuri openly rolled his eyes.

_Katsuki has Victor by the balls. It’s pathetic._

Still, it was funny to see Yuuri exert his influence over Victor. No one had been capable of doing such a thing before. It was like being in a strange dream.

Or a nightmare. Seeing the utmost adoration in their eyes was horrifying.

_I’m **never** going to be like that. Love makes you weak._

And Yuri was weak enough as it was. He didn’t have room for loving anyone else, not when his grandfather took up so many of his resources.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri’s laptop was an older model. It wasn’t sleek and modern like Victor’s, but it would serve its purpose. Its wallpaper, surprise, surprise, was a picture of Victor wearing a flower crown. The other male blushed at this, leading Yuri to realise that he’d probably been using that wallpaper long before he’d even officially met Victor.

It was almost cute, in a creepy way, how much the Japanese man idolised Victor. Idolised the man the way Yuri himself never had.

_Is that why Victor likes **him** so much?_

Before he could venture down the slippery slope of introspection, Yuri opened the web browser. Yuuri had trustingly left him to his own devices, leaving to re-join Victor. He appreciated the privacy the man was allowing him. No doubt if it were Victor, the man would be hovering over his shoulder watchfully.

Resisting the urge to snoop around Yuuri’s saved websites (he was a little like his father in that regard) he wasted no time logging in, using the verification application on his phone to complete the process. Yuri couldn’t count the amount of times his account had been hacked by random fans trying to gain personal information…

It wasn’t a completely secure method (what was, nowadays?) but it set his mind at rest a little bit. The last thing he wanted was anything in his account being leaked.

His eyes scanned the list of emails cautiously, and he was simultaneously relieved (and surprised) to note nothing sinister lurking in his inbox. No demands for payment, no threats of throwing his grandpa out onto the streets…

Just a lot of emails from his fellow competitors in Russia, and a few from some random person named Phichit asking him to follow him on Instagram…

_How did he even find out my email address?_

Shaking his head (and feeling a weight lift off of his chest) Yuri logged out. Like the paranoid teen he was, he also deleted his search history, not wanting Yuuri to know what he’d been doing online, even if he was doing something innocuous like checking his emails…

And, before he shut the ancient relic of a laptop down, he changed Yuuri’s wallpaper. He was unable to resist, and thought the man would appreciate Yuri saving him from further embarrassment.

He’d just closed the laptop when Yuuri knocked on the door, waiting a moment before entering. “Are you ready to head back to the rink?”

“Duh.” Yuri rolled his eyes. _Again._ The ballet lesson had been squeezed into their daily schedule, after an early morning of skating practice, Yuuri would give him a lesson, before they’d return to the rink after lunch to continue into the late afternoon. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

The added physical effort of the ballet lesson ended up making Yuri feel exhausted when practice finally concluded for the day, and he could barely manage to keep up with Yuuri on the run back to the inn. Victor called to him a few times, asking if he wanted to slow down, but Yuri had replied with his middle finger each time.

When they finally returned, Yuri was eager for a bath, and practically slumped into the hot springs, shedding his practice clothes and collapsing into the warm water with a small splash. He gave a sigh at the soothing sensation on his muscles, and kept his eyes closed even when Yuuri and Victor joined him sometime later.

Sensing the teen’s wish for silence, the two didn’t engage him in conversation, merely wading out further to relax on their own. Every now and again, Yuri could hear the pair laugh together, and a few wet sounds he _hoped_ were only kisses, but didn’t bother to check. The last time he’d seen them in an intimate position was still burned in his mind…

Yuri sighed once more, sinking down until his shoulders were fully submerged. Soon enough, he was drifting in and out of a content doze, one that was interrupted when a few tourists came bumbling into the room. He felt self-conscious being naked around strangers, so he hastily tied his towel around his waist, hopping out and hurrying to get dressed in a pair of pyjamas. He thought an early night was in order…

Alas, Victor wasn’t about to allow him to oversleep. Sleeping for too long was almost as bad as sleeping too little, and he groaned when the man came into his room (not knocking like Yuuri, he was annoyed to note) and seized his shoulder, yanking him from the bed and shaking him softly. “Uh-uh, Yuri. I can’t allow this as your coach. You know how the body works when it comes to sleep. You should at least have some dinner first.” Yuri mumbled something incoherent in Russian, and Victor ruffled his still damp hair. “Yuri!” He said in a lightly scolding voice. “You need to dry your hair, you’ll catch a chill…” Spotting the discarded towel on the floor and picking it up, Victor suddenly attacked Yuri’s blond locks, drying them roughly. “There!” He said triumphantly a minute later, allowing the struggling boy loose from his grasp. “Now, dinner! Yuri’s mother is grilling fresh fish caught today…”

“I’m still full from lunch.” Yuri protested, but Victor still grabbed his hand, dragging him along anyway.

_Why is he being so **annoying?**_

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was a warm affair, as always. The Katsuki family embraced the two foreigners, treating them like extended family and being attentive to their every need. They spoke to the two Russian’s with an air of familiarity, like they’d known them for years, and once the delicious meal had concluded, they insisted the three skaters didn’t need to clean up.

“Have some free time.” Yuuri’s mother had suggested. “Not everything should be about skating. Why don’t you three do something fun together?”

_**Fun?** With these two?_

Yuri had thought derisively.

_There’s no way-_

“That sounds nice.” Yuuri agreed in a chirp. “Why don’t we watch a movie?”

And now, here they were…

The three males were packed onto Victor and Yuuri’s bed, Yuuri’s laptop balanced between the three. The large screen had been cleaned carefully, and the two older men were now arguing about what movie they should stream. Yuri was just trying his hardest not to brush arms with either of them, as he’d been sandwiched in the middle.

_I hate my life. I hate my life. **I hate my-**_

“What about this one?” Victor jabbed at the screen. “I’ve never seen the Japanese version. I hear they’re scarier than the Western ones…”

“Japanese horror films _are_ scarier than remakes.” Yuuri said rather proudly, but then, he looked to Yuri with a contemplative expression. “But maybe something a little more…” He trailed off pointedly, but Victor merely raised his eyebrows.

“A little more…” He encouraged.

Yuri could feel Yuuri’s shoulders slump. “Age appropriate.” The dark haired man tried to whisper covertly, but Yuri heard it anyway, and immediately felt indignation well inside him.

“I’m not some baby!” He spat. “I’ve seen horror films before-“

“I don’t really feel like watching one anyway.” Yuuri cut in tactfully. “But if you still want to watch something Japanese…” Yuuri typed on the keyboard, and scrolled down through a selection list. “I’m sure you’ve already seen some of the popular ones…” He said as he continued browsing. “Like _Spirited Away. My Neighbour Totoro. Ponyo_ …” At Yuri’s blank, uncomprehending look, Yuuri gaped. “You haven’t seen any of those!?”

“I haven’t even heard of any of those movies.” Yuri scoffed. “Because I’m not a little kid.”

“ _Anyone_ can enjoy these movies.” Yuuri rebutted. “They’re for all ages!” At Yuri’s doubtful look, Yuuri went on. “My favourite is _Kiki’s Delivery Service_ , and Victor likes _Howl’s Moving Castle.”_

_It doesn’t surprise me that Victor is childish enough to like kiddie movies._

When Yuri still appeared uninterested, Yuuri took up a bartering look. “Please?” He asked. “Just give one a try. I **_know_** you’ll like it. Besides, it’s basically a travesty you haven’t seen one yet. You have to watch one!”

Yuri, taken-aback by Yuuri’s passionate declaration, just nodded his head once. “I guess, if it’ll stop you going into hysterics…”

Victor shot him a look for his sarcasm, but Yuuri brightened up, practically beaming. “You can choose!” He shoved the laptop closer to Yuri, who squinted at the Japanese font. He may have been able to speak some Japanese, but his understanding of Japanese kanji was extremely limited. Still, he didn’t want to appear stupid…

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri watched as Yuri squinted at the screen, inwardly berating himself for his own stupidity. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that Yuri couldn’t read Japanese characters very well. And since the boy was so stubborn, there was no way he’d admit he needed help. It was completely frustrating. And if Yuuri offered, Yuri would only snap and stalk off, destroying his plans for watching a movie together as a bonding exercise.

_What am I supposed to do? Will he just pick something random?_

_Apparently,_

He thought a moment or so later, as Yuri continued frowning at the same sentence.

_Not._

“I could offer some recommendations.” Yuuri said hesitantly, hoping Yuri wouldn’t see his ploy for what it was. Luckily, he seemed a little desperate for an excuse, and shoved the laptop closer to Yuuri.

“Whatever.” He huffed. “Just don’t choose anything completely lame. I have standards, and I _hate_ kid’s movies.”

Yuuri wondered if the boy was exaggerating, and barely held back a grin when Victor scoffed, and murmured something about _‘The Lion King’_ that had Yuri blushing.

_“Zatknis', starik.” (Shut up old man.)_ He snapped at Victor, bristling.

“What about this one?” Yuuri asked, launching into an explanation about each movie he scrolled through. Yuri seemed bored by all of them, and he had just started to re-think his strategy, when the boy’s bright blue eyes suddenly lit up.

_I wonder…_

Yuuri followed the boy’s stare, and smirked to himself.

_Should have known._

_“Neko no Onagaeshi._ ” Yuuri read the title again. “Or, in English, _The Cat Returns_. I think you’ll like this one, Yuri. It’s about a girl-“

“Does it have cats?” Yuri interrupted rather rudely, glaring at the screen balefully.

“Y-yeah.” Yuuri confirmed, a little put off by the boy’s persistent attitude. “It has cats.”

Yuri nodded stoically, and the boy’s seriousness over such a small matter had Yuuri regaining his smirk once more. “We’ll watch that one.”

_For someone so seemingly mature, he can certainly be-_

“Childish.” Victor scolded, narrowing his eyes at the other Russian male. “Yuuri is being kind enough to let you choose a movie, yet you have no manners-“

“Fine!” Yuri snapped back. “I’d rather go to bed, anyhow!” He made to jump upwards, but Victor dragged him back down firmly.

“We aren’t finished talking, boy.”

“Let me go, old man!”

“You arrogant little brat-“

“Self-obsessed geezer-“

“Foolish little boy-“

“Air-headed idiot-“

Yuuri watched the argument with rapidly depleting patience, and eventually grabbed the two by their ears, yanking hard with a dark expression. Despite his cheerful attitude, he happened to be rather tired as well, and all he wanted was a quiet, pleasant evening watching a movie whilst keeping an eye on the two stubborn men. Was that too much to ask? It wasn’t like they had to _talk_ to one another… “Stop it **NOW!** ” Yuuri ordered, ignoring their pained winces as he pulled harder. “Victor,” He started with a glower. “Why do you have to instigate these little fights? I can stick up for myself!” Before the man could counter, he turned his attention fully to Yuri. “And _you!_ I know you’re tired, but have you considered that maybe _everyone else is_ , as well? A movie is a good way to unwind and spend quality time with others!” Yuri gawked at him, and Yuuri was satisfied his point was being made. “ _ **Now,**_ enough childish fighting. Let’s watch this movie. _**Quietly**_.” That said, Yuuri aggressively clicked on the movie, staring at the pair as it loaded, practically _daring_ them to start quarreling again.

Much to his relief, the movie started (in English, for Yuri’s comfort, despite Yuuri’s preference for the Japanese audio) and the three sat in silence, awkwardly, at first, but once the tense atmosphere subsided they felt comfortable. Warm.

Victor’s arm, which had been resting at his side, snuck around Yuuri’s shoulder at some point during the beginning of the film, and Yuri, tired yet positively enthralled by the charming movie, didn’t bother to complain, merely leaning back against the man’s arm like it was a pillow. He was in what could be called a _cuddling_ position now, and Yuuri found it adorable. He was almost tempted to take a picture…

_I’m turning into Phichit._

He thought bemusedly. Still, it was a sweet sight. A _deceptively_ sweet sight. If Yuri were disturbed, he’d likely go ballistic. So, to avoid that from happening, Yuuri kept still and silent, taking casual glances at the pair every now and again. He’d seen the movie a few times, after all, and it just wasn’t the same in another language...

Approaching the conclusion of the film, Yuri’s rapidly drooping eyelids finally closed completely. His head slumped onto his chest, which rose and fell evenly.

“He fell asleep.” Victor observed, appearing consternated. “All that fuss and he didn’t even see the ending.”

“He can watch it another time.” Yuuri said softly, his kaasan instincts surfacing. “Move your arm, we don’t want him to get a stiff neck…”

Victor obeyed slowly, but not without a put-upon sigh. He edged his arm out, and supported Yuri’s back, carefully lowering him down onto the pillow underneath. The boy rested comfortably, before rolling onto his side with a content puff of air. “I suppose,” Victor began wryly. “We aren’t sleeping alone tonight?”

Yuuri reached out and smoothed Yuri’s hair away from his face, feeling a strong sense of de ja vu. It wasn’t long since he’d last been doing this, when they’d picked Yuri up from the police station…

_He looks so peaceful._

Yuuri smiled. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Can we at least move him from the middle? I want my arms around you.”

_**“Victor…”** _

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri was not embarrassed.

Nope.

Because there was _nothing_ to be embarrassed about.

Falling asleep between his father and said father’s boyfriend while watching a children’s film was _not_ embarrassing. Not in the slightest.

It wasn’t at all mortifying that he woke up cuddled with the two men, a small puddle of drool under his head and with a fluffy dog resting on his stomach. It wasn’t at all mortifying that when he woke up, yawning widely, Victor and Yuuri were already awake, and smiled at him warmly, like he was some, some…

_I am **not** a child._

Yuri thought adamantly. He’d spent all day avoiding the two as best he could manage, and had insisted the two go ahead to change at the end of practice without him, with the excuse of wanting some alone time to…be with the ice. Yuri knew it was a lame excuse, and it was an obvious one as well, but it was all he could muster up.

I _**didn’t**_ enjoy that movie last night.

Yet, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise…

_Studio Ghibli movies are **amazing.**_

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri’s back impacted with the lockers behind him hard, and he groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure as Victor latched onto his neck with fervour, sucking a mark onto his throat with an ease that had come with exploring their bodies together. He gripped Victor’s silvery hair, and whined when Victor detached his lips. “Why’d you stop?”

However, Victor didn’t intend on answering. He captured Yuuri’s lips in a passionate kiss, slipping his tongue inside Yuuri’s eagerly opened mouth, and exploring the familiar cavern within. It lit Yuuri’s nerves on fire, and he moaned loudly when Victor slipped a hand up his shirt, tracing upwards to circle a nipple, coaxing it to pucker. When he finally pinched the erect bud, Yuuri moaned again, so loudly it echoed around the empty room. The resounding sound was enough to bring him back to his hazy senses, and he pushed Victor away. The Russian male fell back with a frown, and Yuuri panted. “W-we can’t.” He denied with no small amount of effort. Those ministrations had felt _**good.**_

This time, it was Victor’s turn to whine. “Why?” He sounded so childish, it was amusing.

Yuuri sighed, emptying the rest of his water bottle over his partially undressed body. Yurio may have been naïve to the ways of sex, but he had a boner that could cut diamonds, and it would be noticeable even through his thicker slacks. “Isn’t it obvious?”

_“Nyet.”_

Yuuri sighed again. “We can’t have sex in the changing room. Not while Yuri’s out on the rink!”

“Why? It has been too long…”

“It’s been _one night_ , exactly. And that’s because Yuri fell asleep in our room!”

“It was your idea to watch that movie…”

“He’s never seen a _Studio Ghibli_ film before, Victor. Ever!”

“I do not see the big deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri sighed as he finished yet another lap on the ice. It had been a while, and the other two skaters had yet to return.

Whatever they were doing, he expected, it must have been important.

 

* * *

 

 

**Preview for next chapter:**

 

_“Yuuri! He changed the screen saver I put on your laptop!"_

_"Good. Now I won't be embarrassed whenever someone looks at my computer."_

_A gasp. “He deleted his search history, as well!”_

_“Of course he did, Victor. He’s a teenager.” Then, after a pause. “Why are you trying to access his search history?”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been focusing on the relationship between the two Yuuri/Yuri's, so next chapter I think I'll pay a little more attention to Victor. 
> 
> A big THANK YOU to those who review and leave Kudos, especially those who leave comments on each chapter, you guys really inspire me. :)
> 
> I hope all is going well in your respective lives! See you next time! 
> 
> PS: I realize I asked you guys a question regarding a possible Otabek/Yuri relationship, and never said what I thought. I decided that if it were to happen, it wouldn't happen until the moment was right, and that Yuri would be aged up. Also, my headcanon for this story was that Otabek was the same age as Yuri anyhow. We'll see what happens. :)


	9. I will be your guardian when all is crumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri thinks they are making slow progress, until Yakov arrives. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Yuri is steadily opening up but can't forgive any kind of betrayal, no matter how minor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Another late-ish update. I can apologise over and over again, but doing so would be pointless. I haven't lost inspiration for this story, but rather I want to enjoy writing it opposed to rushing through to try and complete chapters at a faster pace. I've made that kind of mistake before in my writing and I don't want writing to become a chore. That just demotivates me completely.
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the last, and a little all over the place, but I enjoyed writing it. Hopefully you like reading it!

 

* * *

 

 

"Yuuri! He changed the screen saver I put on your laptop!"

“Good. Now I won't be embarrassed whenever someone looks at my computer."

A gasp. “He deleted his search history, as well!”

“Of course he did, Victor. He’s a teenager.” Then, after a pause. “Why are you trying to access his search history?”

They were having this conversation the day Yakov was due to arrive, sitting on Victor’s bed whilst the man furtively combed through Yuuri’s computer. The Russian male was trying to find some trace of what Yuri had been doing on the laptop when he borrowed it, but to no avail. The boy had thoroughly erased all evidence of his presence on the machine, and even, much to Victor’s disgust, changed Yuuri’s background image. Needless to say, this irritated the Russian immensely. He was naturally suspicious of his son, and wanted to know the reason for all of his secrecy.

Although Yuuri found Victor’s gross disregard for Yuri’s privacy vaguely annoying, he also couldn’t help but…return the sentiment, somewhat. He was curious as well. He just didn’t intend on acting on his curiosity. That would be totally unacceptable.

That…and Yuuri doubted he could recover Yuri’s search history, anyhow. He wasn’t an IT expert, and Yuri had been careful. He _knew_ the younger boy was likely doing something innocuous, like checking his social media accounts or email, but why all the secrecy? Why was he so obviously uncomfortable using someone else’s laptop? A regular teenager may have acted this way if they were doing something… _intimate_ on a computer, but Yuri hadn’t been on the laptop long enough to do anything of _that_ manner, so that was ruled out as a possibility…

Frankly, that possibility scared Yuuri. He didn’t like to think that the dainty Russian boy was developed enough to have adult desires. He was barely a teenager! Not to mention, if he turned out anything like Victor (irresponsible in puberty) there was a possibility he’d make the same mistakes his father did. Depending on the boy’s preferences…

_Ugh. This is all so confusing. Now I know how parents feel when their kids get older._

Hapless, confused, and consistently worried. It wasn’t a pleasant combination.

But Yuuri would deal with it. Because he loved Victor, and because Yuri deserved some semblance of a family. Just because Victor had missed out, it didn’t mean he had to as well. No one should have to suffer the same way they had. Yuuri could only be immensely grateful for his own loving and supportive family. Without them, his life would have been considerably more difficult. Without _Victor_ his life would have been considerably more difficult. The man had brought so much excitement into his life, and a world of new possibilities Yuuri had never even dreamed of.

_**So**_ he had to deal with a moody thirteen year old.

In the scheme of things, it was positively inconsequential.

Victor didn’t even have the shame to look abashed. “I want to know what he was doing on your laptop. There has to be a reason he asked to borrow yours and not mine.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Maybe because him asking would result in an argument? You two can’t have one conversation without bickering.”

Victor pouted, and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck. “ _ **I am**_ working on it.” He defended.

Yuuri softened, and relaxed into Victor’s side. “I know.” He acknowledged. “I know you’re working on it.”

Victor released an almighty sigh, the warm air tickling the sensitive flesh of Yuuri’s neck. “What we _should_ be working on is Eros. Taking a day off seems fundamentally wrong. But I suppose I can’t have Yakov watching me coach. He’ll just criticise me.”

“God forbid.” Yuuri murmured, and Victor bit into his neck at Yuuri’s cheek.

“It was nice of your sister to offer to pick him up from the airport.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I think she wants to grill him about Yurio.”

“Either way,” Victor pushed the laptop off his lap, and used his hand to creep up Yuuri’s clothed thigh. “It gives us some time to be together. Alone.”

“Alone in an inn filled with customers, my parents, and Yurio.”

“It’s never bothered you before, my beautiful pork cutlet bowl~”

That was true. But… “It just feels… _different_ now that Yurio is under the same roof.”

Victor groaned, and it was full of consternation. “You sound like a **_parent_**. It’s a total turn-o”

A violent bang on the door interrupted their conversation, and Victor groaned again.

“Come in!” Yuuri called, inwardly sheepish that his behaviour was unappealing to the Russian male. Their sex life had changed since Yuri came. It felt more awkward, like there was something they’d lost and hadn’t quite recovered.

Lo and behold, the blond boy himself peeked into the room, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you two fucking in here?” Victor groaned again, and Yuri grimaced. “Disgusting!”

“We aren’t,” Yuuri assured hurriedly, when Yuri withdrew from the doorway. “That wasn’t a pleasured groan. It was a…tired groan. Victor is tired.”

Yuri scoffed. “Whatever. I just wanted to let you know that lunch was ready.”

Victor blinked, surfacing from Yuri’s neck. “A little early, isn’t it?”

Yuuri frowned lightly. His father and mother had left to run some errands that were due to last until late afternoon. Surely they hadn’t returned already? He and Victor were still full from the breakfast they’d eaten, uncommonly heavy since they had a day off. His mother had insisted they have a treat, and neither of the men had wanted to disappoint her, or waste her cooking efforts.

Before he could ask, however, Yuri was flipping Victor a rude gesture. “Then don’t come, asshole!” He hissed.

Realization immediately dawned on the Japanese male.

_Oh. I see now._

Yuri had foregone breakfast that morning, choosing instead to go for a long run, and had obviously…

_That must be why he’s acting so sensitive._

It was a nice gesture, especially after the pair had cooked together not long ago. “Of course we’ll come.” Yuuri gave a small, placating smile to the short-tempered Russian. “What did you make for us?” Yuri blushed, no doubt embarrassed he’d been called out so quickly. He mumbled something incoherent, but Yuuri maintained his smile, despite Victor rolling his eyes. “What was that?”

“Just look in the kitchen for yourself, swine!” Yuri snapped. “Get off your lazy asses!”

“Yuri-“ Victor began warningly, but Yuuri shook his head. Yurio had done something thoughtful for them, and they had to proceed carefully, lest the boy become too embarrassed. If that happened, he’d lash out, and their progress would be ruined. Upon seeing Yuuri’s chastising look, he backtracked. “How thoughtful of you.”

Yuuri smiled at him widely, and the Russian got a lovestruck expression on his face. The Japanese man was just too beautiful, especially when he was happy.

Yuri paused in the doorway. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm or mockery in Victor’s voice, and after a moment of hesitation, he replied softly. “Thanks.” Then, he stormed off for the kitchen, and Victor gaped at Yuuri in shock.

“That’s the nicest thing he’s said to me in a long time!” The man breathed, regarding Yuuri with awe. “How did you make him do that!?”

“I didn’t make him do anything, Victor. I was just kind to him.”

Victor shook his head in disbelief. “I take what I said back.” He murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s soft lips. “You aren’t a turn-off _**at all**_ , Mama Yuuri.”

Yuuri flushed deeply at this, pushing Victor away in mortification. “Don’t call me that!”

Of course, Victor kept going, causing Yuuri further embarrassment. “You’re the Mama, and _**I’m**_ the Papa! How did I never see this before? Oh, Yuuri, you can be sexy in any circumstance. I just want to lay you down and make love to you right now…”

The words were said rather tenderly, and Yuuri stood from the bed abruptly, willing himself to calm down. The last thing he wanted was for Yuri to walk in on them having sex again.

“Which…I won’t.” Victor said with evident disappointment as Yuuri straightened his shirt. “Because we have to play happy families and have lunch with Yuri.” He muttered something in Russian, but held his hands up when Yuuri shot him a sharp look. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, mama bear…”

“Will you just _**stop.”**_

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri had made rice balls again, but this time without instruction and with much more success. It seemed he was a quick learner, even when it came to cooking. The rice balls he’d prepared were fluffy and well-balanced, and although the two men weren’t very hungry, they still ate all of what the Russian boy gave to them.

He seemed fidgety, clearly nervous about what the two thought, and Yuuri was glad Victor hadn’t made some joking remark about food poisoning yet. He didn’t think the boy would take that comment well. Yuri had put himself out there, and done something nice for his seniors, and it wouldn’t do to tease him for it. No matter how tempted Victor clearly was.

“These were delicious.” Yuuri said, once he’d finally nibbled the last grain of rice. “And perfect after what we had for breakfast. Arigato, Yuri. We really appreciate it.” From under the table, Yuuri covertly elbowed Victor, prompting him to speak.

_“Da. Spasibo, Yuri. Eto bylo voskhititel'no.” (Yes. Thank you, Yuri. It was delightful.)_

Yuuri assumed Victor had said something complimentary, because Yuri _smiled_ , a genuine, sweet, _innocent_ little smile. One that was gone within a second, but one that had been there all the same. He eyed Victor surreptitiously, and was relieved to see he’d caught the expression. The man seemed shocked once more, even more so than when Yuri had thanked him earlier. It made Yuuri a little sad, to know that such simple gestures were such large pieces of progress to the Russian man. But it also made him extremely happy. Things were beginning to work.

“Whatever, old man. Like I care what you think.”

_**Slowly.** _

“And here I was about to offer to wash up. If you don’t care though, I may as well leave the rest of the work to you, _Da Yuri?”_

“Fuck no!”

Victor tutted. “Such language…”

“Stop acting like you’re so much more superior then me!”

“But _I am_ your papa.” Victor countered teasingly, amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“You’re a world class _mudak (asshole)_ is what you are.”

“And here I was about to give you a hug for your yummy lunch.”

“If you dare try, I’ll stick this chopstick so far up your ass it’ll protrude from your mouth!” Yuri brandished the chopstick in a threatening fashion. _“Razdrazhayet ublyudok.” (Annoying bastard)_

Yuuri contemplated interrupting their bantering, but realised the two were back-and-forthing, verbally sparring to see who would emerge victorious. And Victor said he wasn’t competitive…

It wasn’t mean spirited. Yet. Merely a bout of bickering one might expect from an unconventional father and son duo.

_At least they’re not **really** trying to kill one another._

Yet.

“Now, now, Yuri. A boy your age shouldn’t be so vulgar.”

“Fuck off, Victor.”

“Shouldn’t you start calling me-“

Yuuri’s eyes widened. _No. Not yet._ Now was not the time. Not when Victor was doing so well.

_What is he **doing?** This topic isn’t one to be breached lightly._

“You should probably tone down on the language, Yurio.” Yuuri blurted, cutting Victor off. It was the only thing he could think to say, and no doubt something the boy wouldn’t appreciate. Teenagers didn’t like being berated for their use of expletives. At least that was what he’d heard. He’d never been one to swear much.

Yuri scoffed, and flipped the chopstick, catching it easily. “Do you want this up your ass? Wait,” He paused, appearing queasy. “Ew. You’d probably like it.”

Yuuri blushed a bright red, and frowned in offense. “That _really_ isn’t-“

But Victor was already offended for him. “So you think because he’s gay he must like having random objects inserted into his anus, and by anyone, no less? What a misconception. I’m disappointed in you, Yuri. What an utterly disrespectful-“

“I was just joking, old man!”

“You have poor taste in jokes.”

_**“You**_ have poor taste in-“ Before Yuri could finish, they heard footsteps approaching, and the sound of Yuuri’s sister chattering. The boy’s face turned blank, before he settled down with steely blue eyes, awaiting Yakov’s arrival.

But Yuuri couldn’t help but want him to finish his sentence. Poor taste in _what?_ Poor taste in **_men?_** The thought of Yuri uttering that made Yuuri feel hurt. Somehow, he’d started wanting Victor’s sons approval, but…

It was more than that. He wanted Yuri to like _and_ respect him. The same way he would a real parent. Was Yuuri not fulfilling his role correctly? Was there someone else out there more befitting of the role he was currently playing? Were _they_ who Yuri wanted Victor to be with? The questions swirled in his head, and he barely registered Yakov’s entrance to the room. His sister had chosen to let them be. He only tuned into the conversation when Victor grasped his hand concernedly. He blinked, dazed from his own thoughts. “Hello, Yakov-san.” He greeted courteously. “Welcome to Japan. I hope your travel was pleasant.”

Yakov grunted. “As pleasant as air travel can be, I suppose.”

Victor stood to greet him, shaking his hand firmly. “Yakov! Wonderful to see you!”

The man grunted again, and Yuuri got the distinct impression that the man wasn’t very pleased to see Victor at all. Instead, he focused on Yuri, striding forward to draw the boy into a short, rough embrace.

_Is stunted affection a Russian male thing? Although Victor isn’t like that. If anything, he’s overly affectionate._

_“Eto khorosho, chtoby videt' vas khorosho, Yuratchka.” (It's good to see you looking well, Yuratchka.)_

Yuri isn’t looking so well, though. Not in that moment. Certainly, he was in peak physical health, but emotionally…

He looked like he was fuming. A volcano set to erupt.

Yuuri is glad his sister had the tact to leave this discussion to them. The last thing he wanted his older sibling to witness was a bunch of Russian man arguing angrily.

Because Yuri was clearly angry. All of his amicable attitude from earlier had evaporated completely.

_“Zachem?”_

Yuuri is educated enough to know what that word means.

**Why.**

Yuuri’s heart constricts, and he realises how betrayed the male must feel. He’d been so focused on fixing the relationship between Yurio and Victor, that he’d forgotten about the tatters Yuri and Yakov’s relationship was currently in. The old man had allowed Victor to do what he wanted in regards to the boy, and it was evident that Yuri held a grudge. The boy didn’t trust easily, and once that trust was broken…

Well, it wouldn’t be regained through simple means.

Yakov’s hard face softened. _"Yuri, ya tol'ko sdelal to, chto ya dumal, chto was-" (Yuri, I only did what I thought was-)_

_“Net, ty sdelal to, chto luchshe vsego na pol'zu vam, i bol'she nichego.” (No. You did what best benefited you, and nothing more.) Yuri countered coldly. He’d stepped away from the man, showing that his earlier embrace had been out of habit, rather than actual desire. “Vy otkazalis' ot menya, dazhe yesli ya vash luchshiy stavku na zolotuyu medal' v mladshem divizione.” (You gave up on me even though I'm your best bet at a gold medal in the junior division.)_

Despite the boy speaking clearly, coldly, Yuuri still struggled to interpret the conversation. He could estimate what was being said, but he preferred to know for certain. “Victor…” He beckoned for the man, but his eyes were fixated on the pair, narrowed and speculative.

Yakov, stony as he was, appeared a little hurt by Yuri’s retort. _"YA ne sdayus' na vy-" (I'm not giving up on you-)_

“No!” Yuri transitioned into English suddenly, upset clear in his voice. “You’re giving me _**over**_ instead! One _word_ from Victor and you drop me like I am _nothing._ You promised, you _promised-“_

“It’s only for a year, Yuri. I never intended on abandoning you.”

Yakov had tried for consoling, but his words made Yuri boil over completely. Emotion overtook the boy, and he lashed out, overturning the table completely. Plates skittered across the wooden floor, and Yuuri cringed for his mother’s china. “WELL YOU HAVE, ASSHOLE!” He shouted, eyes spitting fire. “YOU’VE ABANDONED ME, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!”

Yakov and Victor both winced at the volume, and Yuuri stood up fretfully, wanting to intervene but not knowing the appropriate method to do so.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I _need_ to compete?” Yuri spat, lowering his voice but not his level of acidity. “Not just for my pride, or for my career, but because I-“ He paused, inhaling sharply.

Yakov sighed, and reached out a hand to touch one of Yuri’s heaving shoulders. “I know, Yuratchka.” He said calmly. “I know about your grandfather. That’s why I came. We can sort this out like grown men.”

Yuuri wanted to shake the man. Clearly, he had little experience with distressed teenagers, because, despite Yuri’s attempts to behave grown up, he was a _child._ And children didn’t like to be reminded of their status in an argument. It made them indignant.

_This isn’t the right approach._

“Grandfather?” Victor repeated, baffled. “Yuri, what does he mean?”

“You haven’t told him?” Great, now Yakov was looking disapproving. Another toxic combination. “Yuri, that isn’t very responsible of you. Victor,” He turned to the man. “Yuri’s grandfather is in an aged care facility. The cost of his care is quite high, so I’ve come to arrange an agreement with you. We can’t have Yuri worrying about him.”

_And being excluded from decision making regarding his own kin. Wow, great work, Russian men._

Yuuri couldn’t help but think sarcastically.

_They’re only making Yurio feel worse._

“Of course!” Victor was eager to assist. “I will pay all of his expenses from now on. He won’t want for anything.”

More salt in the wound. Yuri would now feel inadequate compared to Victor. Like he wasn’t capable of taking care of his family.

“Yuri, you should have told me about your _dedushka_.” Victor berated sternly, as the boy silently seethed. “Is that why you were sneaking around with Yuuri’s computer?” When Yuri didn’t answer, Victor clicked his tongue. “Go to your room. We have much to discuss regarding your foolish behaviour.”

Yuri looked up from the floor, mouth falling open with outrage. “You can’t-“

“Perhaps you should take your things to your room, Yuratchka.” Yakov advised. “I’ve left them in the hallway near the entrance.”

When Yuri stomped from the room, the two men sighed in relief.

Not Yuuri though. He knew better.

Yurio was feeling trapped, conflicted, and humiliated. A trifecta of emotions bound to concoct some extreme paths of action. The one Yuuri thought must obvious being…

_He’s going to try and run away._

Yuuri knew this with certainty. The same way he knew without a doubt that he loved Victor Nikiforov. It wasn’t that he’d known Yuri for long, or that they were close friends, or that he was some type of expert behavior analyst. Merely, he’d taken the time to observe Yurio, and had a basic understanding of children’s emotions, unlike the two daft Russians currently conversing in quiet murmurs.

_If I was in his situation, I’d want to run as well._

But Yuuri would stop him.

_**Someone** has to be the parent around here, even if I am filling the role of ‘mama’._

When Yuuri left the room, Victor didn’t even notice, caught up in his conversation with Yakov.

_I love you, Victor. But he needs me more right now than you do._

 

* * *

 

 

As Yuuri had guessed, upon reaching the doorway to his hijacked room, he could hear Yuri hurriedly stuffing his belongings inside his smaller case, preparing to run. He didn’t bother with the pretence of knocking on the door, knowing the boy would merely try and hide his suitcase. Instead he opened it softly and ventured inside, closing it behind him for the sake of privacy. He knew his sister wasn’t nosy, but it was a precautionary measure.

The boy was so caught up in his fury, that he didn’t even notice Yuuri until he turned to scoop up a pile of clothes on the floor. He jumped in surprise, clutching at his thundering chest. “What the fuck do _you_ want?” He demanded.

Yuuri tried to calm his nerves. Yurio was quite intimidating like this. He just had to remind himself…

_You’re dealing with an upset child, not a homicidal competitor. **Child.**_

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri apologised evenly, taking a seat on his computer chair to better survey the Russian teen. “About your grandfather, I mean.”

Yuri seemed to relax somewhat when he saw Yuuri sit down, but he was still very much on edge. “It’s none of your business.” He growled, grabbing the clothes and tossing them inside the chaos of his suitcase. “It’s no one’s business but mine.”

Yuuri remained patient. “I know that, Yuri-kun. I told you that you could come to me for help if you needed. I wasn’t going to force you into telling me anything.”

At the reminder, Yuri calmed a little further, enough to ask a rational question. “Why are you here?”

_Here we go…_

“Because I care about you.” Yuuri said honestly. “And I don’t think what happened just now was very fair.”

Yuri squinted suspiciously. “Is this a trick?”

“No, you doubtful Russian.” Yuuri denied, a little dryly. “I am being honest. Do you think someone like me would make a good liar?”

Yuri’s lips inched into a humourless smile. “ _Nyet._ You’d make a shitty liar. You’re entirely too earnest. People will take advantage of that and use you.”

“We aren’t talking about me.”

_Control the flow of conversation peacefully…_

“I know you’re upset, Yurio. I would be as well. You have every right to be upset, but running away isn’t the answer to your problems. It’s just procrastinating them.”

“Says the Japanese coward who sobbed in a bathroom stall.”

Yuuri had been expecting it, but the jab still stung a little.

_Don’t act upset, he’ll use that emotion against you and lash out._

Yuuri coached himself carefully. “I know things seem impossible now-“

“You don’t _ **know**_ anything!”

“Maybe I don’t know everything about your situation,” Yuuri amended, with just a hint of firmness. “But I do know how you’re feeling. You’re hurt, and you’re frustrated, and you just want to get away. These aren’t feelings solely reserved for you, Yuri-kun. _**You aren’t alone.”**_

“Yes I am! I have no one! I don’t need anyone! Especially not some Japanese fatso trying too hard to relate to me! You think I can’t see what you’re doing? Victor’s sent you up here to calm me down!” Yuri panted. “You’re just his little bitch!”

_That is the last straw._

Yuuri abruptly stood up, and advanced forward. The younger male squared his stance, clearly anticipating a fight. However, he merely gaped when Yuuri picked up a stray T-Shirt, folding it carefully before tucking it inside the suitcase. “Would a bitch do that?” He challenged, continuing before Yuri could reply. “If you want to get away for a couple of days, I won’t stop you.” Then, he proceeded to his cupboard, pulling out a similar sized suitcase. He hadn’t bothered transferring it to Victor’s room yet. He’d planned to do that when the rest of Yuri’s belongings arrived. “I _**will**_ , however, be accompanying you. You’re too young to get a hotel room around here, and you need money.” He elaborated further at Yuri’s gobsmacked look. “This way I can make sure you’re safe, as well. Now come on, I need to pack as well. We should get going before Victor starts missing me. I’ll send him a text once we’re safely inside a taxi.”

“But,” Yuri was hopeless to stop the determined Japanese man. “What about practice?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I can make it up to him when we come back.”

“You’d come with me even though it means pissing off your precious Victor?” Yuri was, dare he say it, a little _impressed_ despite everything.

“I could care less about that right now.” Yuuri smirked slightly. “I think a little reflection time would do Victor some good, don’t you? Besides, we can watch more Studio Ghibli.”

_Perhaps,_ Yuri thought, as the Japanese male upturned his younger’s suitcase, _he can be badass._ The man began folding Yuri’s clothes, before repacking them neatly. _A badass **mama.**_

It should have seemed ridiculous, yet…

He was very grateful for Yuuri Katsuki.

In that point of time, at least. There was no telling how the moody teenager would feel later. His emotions weren’t exactly controllable lately.

 

* * *

 

 

**PREVIEW FOR NEXT CHAPTER:**

“Sooooooo,” Yuri drawled a little awkwardly, spooning some green tea ice cream into his mouth. He and the Japanese male were each sat on their respective single beds, consuming a small tub of ice cream each. “What do you like so much about Victor, anyhow?”

Immediately, he knew he’d asked the wrong question. Yuuri simply wouldn’t _shut up_ about the man. It was positively disgusting.

He’d never seen one person so in love with anybody before. Love wasn’t an emotion he had seen much in his life, and it seemed nonsensical to him that Yuuri could be so passionate about _Victor_ of all people.

When the man finally fell silent, he seemed abashed. “Oh, sorry. Was I rambling?”

“Just a tad.”

“I’m sorry, Yuri-kun. Hey, how about we play a game?”

“A game?” Yuri repeated. “What are we, five year olds at a slumber party? Next you’ll be asking for a goddamned pillow fight.”

“I can braid your hair if you’d like, Yuri-kun.” Yuuri offered dryly. 

Yuri curled his lip at Yuuri’s teasing reply. The man was getting too cocky lately. “Shut up, Katsuki. I’m barely tolerating your fat ass as it is.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! Somehow this chapter started fluffy and turned into angst. Rest assured though, the fluff will return! 
> 
> This chapter focused more on the changing dynamics of Yuuri and Yuri(o's) relationship, but next chapter will have more Victor interaction. I just love writing mama Yuuri :3
> 
> And as for Yakov, the poor guy just wants to do what's right...
> 
> Anyways, thanks a bunch for reading. Also, a big THANK YOU to everyone who reviews and leaves Kudos, whenever I feel a little bored of writing this I look back on your comments for inspiration! 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like, but no pressure!
> 
> See ya next time! 
> 
> PS: Happy Lunar New Year to anyone celebrating!


	10. For one so small, you seem so strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri has never had a real sleepover before, so Yuuri decides to give him the best one possible. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Somewhat awkward shenanigans ensue, and the two bond further as a result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I wrote this chapter sooner than I expected, because I felt inspired! That said, it's mostly filled with fluffy bonding time between Yuuri and Yuri, because I thought that would be cute and couldn't help myself. :3
> 
> When I first started writing this story, I didn't think I would have so much interaction between the pair, but it kind of just happened. Never fear though, next chapter will have much more Victor! He's kind of an asshole at the moment (sorry! that kind of just happened as well) but hopefully he can redeem himself soon... 
> 
> Also, a shout out to the reviewer who recommended using 'You'll Be In My heart' as a song for this chapter. Thanks a bunch! :)

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m honoured to have two such fine figure skaters staying at my humble establishment.” The innkeeper practically simpered, excitement on his face. “Business has been sluggish as of late, but if patrons knew such distinguished guests were staying here, of all places…”

_He does know Yuuri’s family is his rival for business, right?_

The lobby they stood in was considerably more upscale than the Katsuki inn, and Yuri, despite himself, felt a little more relaxed. The Katsuki’s had been nothing but kind to him, but ever since his arrival he’d been on _their_ turf. Intruding on _their_ home, and eating _their_ food. It was nice to be away from that smothering, family-orientated atmosphere, at least for a little while. Yuri liked to know he could do things alone. Could _be_ alone. Nothing had changed, despite everything that had happened. He was still the same Yuri Plisetsky who roomed alone in clean, concise hotels. And if the lone pool couldn’t compare to the beautiful hot-springs the Katsuki’s operated…

Well, at least the television would have better reception, and more channels. It had been too long since he’d last watched any sports coverage. Even if it wasn’t ice skating, it was still important he keep up with notable events. You never knew when an issue would overlap…

Yuuri seemed amiable, though. He smiled at the man. “I’ll be happy to give you a customer testimony, but could you please not tell anyone we’re here?” It was a tall request, considering the man’s obvious tendency towards boastfulness, but Yuuri seemed to have a sweet face that men and women alike couldn’t refuse. He was only now just learning to use it to his advantage.

“Of course!” The man assured hastily. “We have a strong customer confidentiality agreement, Katsuki-kun. No one except me and my staff will know of your presence. The other patrons will be sworn to secrecy as well!”

“In that case,” Katsuki rifled in his wallet, procuring a credit card. “I’ll take a suite with two beds.”

“I insist you have the premium suite!” The man said. “For no extra charge. Only the best for Japan’s ice skating representative…”

Yuuri blushed at the praising. “Oh no, there’s really no need, Fukui-san. I couldn’t rob you of your best room. You should save that just in case someone else comes.”

“So considerate, the rumours about you aren’t wrong, Katsuki-kun!”

“Rumours?” Yuuri practically squeaked.

Yuri rolled his eyes impatiently. Katsuki had _no idea_ how to deal with boot-lickers. “Oi, Yuuri,” He spoke up, drawing the two’s attention to him. He’d been loitering at the counter irritably since their arrival fifteen minutes ago. “Can we hurry it up? Yakov and Victor have probably noticed we’re gone now…”

Yuuri nodded his head at the reminder. The younger male had spoken in English opposed to Japanese, so the innkeeper was none the wiser to their conversation, even if he _did_ recognise the name Victor… “Thank you for your hospitality.” Yuuri said firmly, offering the credit card.

The man accepted it eagerly, and went about the booking process swiftly, obviously sensing their hurried nature. He handed them a key-card, and waved them off politely as the two men rolled their small suitcases across the floor.

Yuri heaved an annoyed breath. “Tell me again why we have to share a room?”

“You’re under-age.” Yuuri repeated, for the countless time since they’d arrived. “You won’t be allowed to stay alone. I promise to give you privacy, okay? I won’t even talk to you…”

Yuri scowled. “You better not. I’m sick of hearing your voice already.”

_I never thought I’d have a **sleepover** with Katsuki._

Yuri mused, as the two caught the elevator to the fourth floor. The two were silent as they located their room, and chose their beds. They eyed the pleasantly decorated room without exchanging any words with one another, and Yuri jumped onto his bed, bouncing up and down on the springy mattress. Yuuri gave a small grin at the childish action, but didn’t comment otherwise. He merely proceeded to open his suitcase, and unpack his toiletries in an efficient fashion.

_This is so embarrassing. It feels like having a sleepover with your **mom.**_

Truthfully, Yuri had never had a real sleepover before. He’d travelled to many places for training, and shared quarters with his teammates, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t something…casual. It was all work. And to have one now with _Yuuri,_ of all people…

_Is this some kind of joke?_

“What would you like for dinner?” Yuuri eventually spoke up, after he’d moved Yuri’s suitcase from the doorway, tucking it away in Yuri’s side of the room. “The kitchenette here is quite small, and the fridge isn’t stocked with much, but I could cook if you don’t want room service…”

Yuri’s prickly demeanour subsided, somewhat. Here the man was, paying for him to stay in a hotel, moving about his belongings, _and_ offering to cook dinner. It was almost ridiculous how good-intentioned the Japanese man was. He couldn’t possibly be rude to him now… _“Nyet.”_ He mumbled, keeping his eyes on the television he’d switched on. “Room service is fine. Is there a menu?”

“There should be one around here somewhere…”

 

* * *

 

 

Whereas the Katsuki inn sticked predominantly to Japanese meals, the hotel had a small selection of Western dishes reserved for finicky travellers. Yuri chose to order a simple pasta, a little tired of eating the same cuisine. He’d been spoiled for choice in his travels…

Maybe just a little spoiled in _general._ Not that he’d admit that.

The pasta was far from what he’d sampled in Italy, but it was filling enough, and Yuri collapsed onto his bed after emptying his plate, emotionally and physically spent.

_Pasta is high in carbs, I’ll have to do extra exercises tomorrow._

Although eating the meal had felt nice at the time, Yuri was regretting it now.

_That glutton Katsuki is getting to me._

Aforementioned male was eating grilled mackerel, pickled vegetables, and rice. He’d dealt with the room service deliverer, and even (blushingly of course) signed the napkin the girl had presented him with. It was clear he was unaccustomed to autograph requests. Yuri himself got them quite frequently when he was travelling…

Yet, there was something a little endearing with how humble Yuuri Katsuki was.

“Perhaps an early night is in order.” Yuuri said once he was finished, diligently stacking their plates and utensils. “You seem exhausted.”

Yuri snorted. “I’m not some little kid, Katsuki. I can handle myself just fine. Besides, I’m not tired at all.” To demonstrate his (lying) point, he sat up abruptly, crossing his arms stubbornly. Truthfully, he just wanted to sleep the drama of the day away, but he wasn’t about to admit defeat to the coddling man. He’d sleep when he wanted to, and not before. “I don’t have a fucking bedtime. _Some_ people do what they want _without_ Victor’s approval.”

Yuuri didn’t fight him though, merely shrugged yieldingly. “Suit yourself.” He got to his feet, and headed into the kitchenette. Yuri heard the refrigerator door open, and then the man was calling to him. “There’s some ice cream in here, Yuri. Would you like some?” Yuri opened his mouth to scorn the man for his poor diet choices, but Yuuri went on before he got the chance to speak. “It’s low in calories.”

Yuri paused, considering. The cold ice cream would likely serve in waking him up, and he hadn’t consumed the treat in a long time. If he was going to splurge tonight, he may as well… “What flavour?” Yuri grunted back.

“Green tea.” Yuuri replied.

Yuri twisted up his face.

_Green tea? **Yuck.** What ever happened to plain vanilla? Or strawberry?_

Yuuri poked his head back into the room with an encouraging smile. “I know it sounds foreign, but it’s actually very refreshing. You should try some before you judge.”

Yuri wanted to say no, but was well aware that refusing to try new things was a very childish trait. He didn’t want to appear more juvenile. “Fine.” He grumbled.

He focused on the television as Yuuri found some utensils, and snatched the tub and spoon when Yuuri offered them to him. He made to peel back the lid, but glowered when Yuuri placed a halting hand over it. The man had a vaguely insulted expression on his face. “What do we say, Yuri?” He prompted in a chiding tone.

Yuri _also_ knew that refusing to use his manners was a childish action. “Thank you.” He managed to grit without yelling, pulling away harshly when Yuuri released the tub. He glared angrily at the television, stuffing a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Yuuri was right. It had an odd flavour, and the texture felt a little strange, but it was refreshing enough, although he definitely preferred vanilla or strawberry…

“Good?” Yuuri asked expectantly, scooping up some of the ice cream. He ate his slower, clearly relishing the taste. It was obvious it had been a while since he consumed ice cream as well. “If you don’t like it, I can-“

“I like it.” Yuri cut in curtly, not wanting to be separated from the treat. “Satisfied?”

“No, not really,” The man said, swallowing his mouthful. “Just glad you’re enjoying it. It’s nice to see you sampling new things.”

Yuri was a little put-out. No matter what he said to Yuuri, he never seemed to get annoyed. Victor surely would have lost his temper by now…

_I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably frantic his **precious Yuuri** has gone missing. I bet he hasn’t even noticed **my** absence._

Yes, Yuri was jealous. He couldn’t help it. It would always sting that his father cared more about a different Yuuri. That he’d always be in second place. A burden. The man would be happy if he was never even born. Did Victor fantasise about a world where Yuri didn’t exist? The same way he himself had used to fantasise about having a present father?

It was all so confusing, and it had only become more so since he’d arrived in Japan. Things were complicated enough without adding Yuuri Katsuki to the mix. Yet, for some reason…

His traitorous self couldn’t help but be _**glad**_ he’d met Yuuri again. The man had been nothing but kind to him, taking his side and even standing up to Victor, despite how difficult it clearly was for the Japanese male…

Yuuri Katsuki, he would admit grudgingly, was _nice. **Too** nice._ People like him got chewed up and spat out in the real world. He’d lived a happy, sheltered existence, surrounded by a stable family and loving friends. He hadn’t experienced the kind of coldness he and Victor had, and remained unchanged because of it. It made Yuri envious, but at the same time, glad. There weren’t enough Yuuri Katsuki’s in the world. The Japanese man easily could have grown up to be a total asshole with all of the affection he’d had, yet he remained annoyingly nice and modest.

Yuri was quickly beginning to realise what Victor saw in Yuuri Katsuki, although _his_ thoughts were not romantic in the least. If anything, they were familial.

Still, what did Yuuri see in _Victor?_ Sure, on the superficial surface he was perfect. Devastatingly handsome, a talented man gifted in nearly everything he applied himself to, a wealthy champion who had won a myriad of titles and awards…

But underneath? What did Yuuri see? It was a burning question that suddenly possessed him, and he found himself blurting it out.

“Sooooooo,” Yuri drawled a little awkwardly, spooning more of the green tea ice cream into his mouth. “What do you like so much about Victor, anyhow?”

Immediately, he knew he’d asked the wrong question, despite his crippling curiosity.

Yuuri simply wouldn’t _shut up_ about the man. Babbling on and on quite contently, the ice cream in his tub steadily depleting.

It was positively disgusting.

He’d never seen one person so in love with anybody before. Love wasn’t an emotion he had seen much in his life, and it seemed nonsensical to him that Yuuri could be so passionate about _Victor_ of all people. It seemed the answer to his question would not come easily. Yuri would need to reflect on it more.

When the man finally fell silent, he seemed abashed. “Oh, sorry. Was I rambling?”

“Just a tad.”

“I’m sorry, Yuri-kun. Hey, how about we play a game?”

“A game?” Yuri repeated. “What are we, five year olds at a slumber party? Next you’ll be asking for a goddamned pillow fight.”

“I can braid your hair if you’d like, Yuri-kun.”

Yuri curled his lip at Yuuri’s teasing reply. The man was getting too cocky lately. “Shut up, Katsuki. I’m barely tolerating your fat ass as it is.”

Despite his acidic reply, Yuri was grateful for the light atmosphere change. His thoughts had been turning dark and brooding, and that wasn’t a good combination right now. Not when he was already so stressed and upset. The ice cream hadn’t made him forget Yakov’s betrayal and Victor’s dismissive treatment. He’d merely pushed it down for a little while…

Maybe he could push it down for just a little bit longer? He’d have to face reality tomorrow...

They couldn’t hide from Victor forever. Yuuri had his phone switched off, but the man would be able to locate them easily enough. He probably already knew where they were, but hadn’t seen fit to intervene yet. He was giving the pair space. Respecting what Yuuri had decided to do. If it were just him, the man would have stormed into the establishment and dragged him back to the Katsuki’s inn, assuming he’d even manage to get a room on his own, without ‘adult’ supervision.

“What kind of game?” Yuri asked, as aloofly as he could manage.

“What’s your favourite sleepover game?”

Yuri frowned, and stayed quiet. He didn’t want to admit he was some loser who’d never been to a proper sleepover before. He didn’t want the man to ridicule him…

“You’ve never been to a sleepover?” There was mild surprise in Yuuri’s voice, but thankfully, he must have sensed Yuri was self-conscious, as he moved on without further comment. “Well, I guess we could just watch a movie if you’d prefer…”

But now that Yuri contemplated it, he _did_ want to play a game. Who knew when his next chance for a sleepover would be? He may as well make the most of the opportunity, even if it was a little embarrassing. Okay, a _lot_ embarrassing.

_What games are played at sleepovers?_

Yuri thought, trying to recall any he had heard mentioned.

_We could play truth or dare, but Yuuri is a coward, he wouldn’t want to do any dares. Plus, I don’t want to be asked any questions I don’t want to answer. Maybe…_

“Hide-and-seek?” Yuri offered, somewhat tentatively. He’d played that game with his grandfather when he was little, and liked it enough. He’d always been small, and able to fit into cramped spaces. It made the elderly man worried when they played. He’d once got stuck in a crevice between walls, much to the man’s dismay, and Yuri’s horror. He hadn’t played since then. “There isn’t much space in here, but we could go out of the room…”

Yuuri seemed reluctant, but after a minute or so, nodded his head in agreement. “Okay. But no going outside. It’s getting too dark to play out there. Do you want me to count first?”

Yuri knew that Yuuri was just indulging him. That the man would rather relax in the room, but he was too excited to care.

_I’m going to find the best place to hide! He’ll **never** find me!_

“Count to ninety!” Yuri ordered, sliding from the bed and heading for the door. “No peeking!”

“Yes sir.” Yuuri quipped jokingly, following up with “Don’t get lost, Yurio. And stay out of trouble.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Whatever, _**Mom.”**_

 

* * *

 

 

They played four rounds before Yuri finally found a place Yuuri couldn’t scope him without difficulty. The man was surprisingly adept at the game, much to Yuri’s irritation. He’d thought hiding from the Japanese male would be easy, but he’d located him within ten minutes each time. Yuuri was probably familiar with the hotel, the cheater…

Yuuri however, was better at concealing himself than Yuri had first anticipated. He’d expected Yuuri to choose lame, predictable places to hide. Like behind corners or decorative items. Instead, Yuuri had chosen clever spots, which Yuri was likely to overlook. The dining room, for example, not creative in the slightest, but a place Yuri hadn’t taken the time to check thoroughly. He’d merely swept his eyes around it, missing the form tucked away in a booth, sipping from a glass of water, and, honestly, checking his phone.

Not creative in the least, yet it fooled Yuri well enough.

Which was why he’d been determined to find a tricky spot for their last round. Taking a leaf out of Yuuri’s book, he’d chosen to hide in the pool area. He doubted the man would check it for a while. After all, he wouldn’t have expected Yuri to risk getting wet. He sat on a deck chair close to the changing rooms, prepared to dart away when Yuuri finally looked in.

After twenty minutes had passed, he’d grown bored. If he knew the man was in pursuit, he could keep moving, but his position didn’t allow him that liberty. There wasn’t anyone in the pool area, so he couldn’t even watch people splash around to pass the time…

The heat of the room eventually began to lull him into a state of drowsiness, and when he finally heard footsteps approaching, he jumped up too quickly, dizzy from the sudden movement. He saw Yuuri treading carefully about, and made to run.

Made to, because his unprepared movement caused his socked feet to slide on the slightly damp tiles. He tried to right himself, but his momentum was off. He toppled quickly, unable to catch himself on any items before falling into the pool with a great SPLASH. He resurfaced quickly, hacking the swallowed water out of his lungs. His open eyes stung from the chlorine, and he rubbed them furtively. His clothed body felt heavy in the water, and he was glad he had fallen in the shallow end. He wasn’t too strong of a swimmer.

“YURI!” He heard a concerned shout, and grimaced. He waved a soaked hand to show he was safe, and watched through sodden strands of hair as Yuuri walked over slowly, careful not to slip on the tiles. “Yuri!” The man repeated again when he got close, kneeling down to look the boy over for any injuries or ailments. “Are you okay?”

Yuri nodded, and flinched when Yuuri flicked him on the forehead. “What was that for!?”

“You should know better than to run near a pool!” Yuuri scolded. “You’re lucky you didn’t bump your head before you fell in! People _drown_ that way!”

Yuri couldn’t help but shrink a little at the scolding. Yuuri was rather good at making people feel small and stupid when he tried. “It was an accident!” He defended, although his retort was half-hearted. The fall had shocked him, and his heart was still thudding at a faster pace than usual. He wasn’t a great fan of pools, or beaches. He preferred water when it was frozen, thank you very much.

“I know that! But still, you shouldn’t-“ Yuuri stopped himself from ranting, giving a calming sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He inquired once more, this time softer.

_The way he’s acting, you’d think something really dangerous just happened._

Yuri nodded again, before adding a verbal response. _“Da,_ Yuuri. I’m fine.” The worried look Yuuri was giving him made Yuri’s chest clench in guilt. “I…”

_Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry._

“I’m sorry you freaked out.”

_Close enough._

Yuuri sighed again. “It is fine, Yuri. Let’s just go back to the room.” He offered a hand to help the blond boy out of the pool, but when he saw a devious expression fleetingly flicker over his face, he thought better and pulled his hand back. Kids could be so predictable.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, but tried to paste an innocent look on his face. “Could you help me out, please?” He asked as sweetly as he could manage. He widened his blue eyes, and offered a nice smile. “It will be easier to get out.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows sceptically. “How stupid do you think I am?”

_Damn. He figured me out._

Yuri’s dreams of yanking the hapless male into the water dissolved. It would have been hilarious to see Yuuri flounder like that. And a good method for getting the man to forget Yuri’s impromptu trip into the pool. However…

“I’m immune to tricks like this.” Yuuri explained. “I know the triplets, after all.”

Yuri winced upon remembering the mischievous trio.

_I’m not about to lose to **them.**_

Unknowingly, Yuuri had presented a challenge to Yuri.

And the Russian boy didn’t intend on losing.

So he waded over to the pool ladder, pulling himself out. Yuuri offered him a towel from the rack provided, and he wrapped it around his shoulders, shivering. Even though the room was warm, the pool had been heated, and the temperature felt cold to him after his unplanned swim. The two males walked side by side, and Yuri was careful to stand to Yuri’s right, away from the pool. The male seemed distracted by something, and Yuri knew this was the _perfect_ opportunity…

_One, two, thre-_

Yuri attempted to ram the other male into the water, but gasped when Yuuri neatly side-stepped him, grabbing onto his arm just before he plummeted into the pool for the second time. It was a loose grip, and Yuri hoped the man wouldn’t let go…

He didn’t, although Yuri was sure he was tempted. “Nice try.” He quipped dryly. “Like I said, I’m not stupid. Now come on, you’re shivering. You should shower before you catch a cold.”

Yuri glared, not happy he’d been bested _twice._ Was this guy a mind-reader?

_I’ll get him, when he least expects it…_

 

* * *

 

 

“Your hair is very soft.”

_I can’t believe I’m letting him do this._

Yuri seethed, as Yuuri carefully braided his blond locks. His hair had been unruly upon him exiting the shower, and Yuuri had insisted on brushing it, saying that (“It would turn into knots, otherwise.”) Yuri argued at first, but had quietened down once Yuri stroked his scalp, closing his eyes with a huff of contentment. The ministrations felt heavenly. Now he knew why girls played with each other’s hair all of the time…

Yuuri brushing his hair felt so nice that he’d agreed to have it braided, not wanting the soothing sensation to stop. He didn’t know what Yuuri’s motives were, but hoped the man wasn’t doing this to ridicule him. He knew he wasn’t the most masculine looking boy, and didn’t need it pointed out like some of his rivals did. Trash talk was part of any sport, but at least Yuri could content himself with the fact that he was _evidently_ the best in his age group. Not that he’d be competing this year…

_That won’t be good for my ranking._

Yuri’s face soured, and Yuuri made some kind of shushing noise, as if to quiet the loud thoughts harassing Yuri’s brain. It was kind of embarrassing, but he let the man be. “Where’d you get the hair ties?” He yawned, as he felt Yuuri’s fingers course through his hair. “Tell me they aren’t your sisters…”

Yuuri laughed. “No. I picked them up from the little shop here. They sell the necessities.”

“You planned on braiding my hair?” Yuri was irked. “Freak.”

_I hope he doesn’t have some kind of hair fetish._

“I was checking in there when I saw them. I thought I may as well. Your hair is always so messy in the mornings.”

“You had your wallet while we were playing hide-and-seek?”

“Yes. I was keeping the key-card for the room in there. I didn’t want it to fall out of my pocket.”

Yuri was silent after the explanation, relaxing further against the bed behind him. Yuuri was atop the mattress, legs crossed as he worked on the hair gently. They didn’t speak for the rest of the braiding, and when Yuuri finished with a soft “There.” Yuri didn’t want it to end. Still, he hadn’t sunk so low as to beg him to continue. He wasn’t _that_ pathetic.

“Can you do this again tomorrow night?”

Pathetic enough to request a repeat, though. He was becoming weaker by the day.

“Sure!” Yuuri agreed cheerfully. “Your hair is fun to braid, Yuri-kun!”

“That was such an innately girlish thing to say.” Yuri pointed out.

“You know braiding isn’t an exclusively girlish thing. Lots of men wear their hair in a braid. I guess you won’t like that I used the pink ties…”

“YOU WHAT!?”

Yuuri chuckled, and Yuri knew the man was smirking behind him. “I’m just kidding, Yurio. I used the plain black ones. I wouldn’t want to hurt your fragile masculinity.”

“If you want to wake up tomorrow intact-“ Yuri began to threaten, but giggled, yes _giggled_ , when Yuuri tickled him under the chin. Like a fucking baby.

He fucking _**giggled.**_

Yuri flushed at the mortifying action, expecting to be made fun of, but Yuuri didn’t comment. He just moved his hand away to flip Yuri’s braid over the boy’s shoulder.

“I think we should go to bed now.” Yuuri decided. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Yuri nodded with a sigh, knowing the Japanese male was right. He felt exhausted, and he needed the rest to face Victor and Yakov tomorrow. _“Da,_ fine.”

It didn’t take long for the pair to slip into their respective beds. They’d both showered already, and simply brushed their teeth before retiring. Yuuri turned off the lights, and Yuri closed his eyes, ready to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Unfortunately, sleep did not come easily. All of the worries he’d been steadily pushing down all evening rose to the surface, suffocating and impossible to divert. Yuri tried ceaselessly to distract himself, counting sheep and attempting the meditation techniques he’d been taught. To no avail. _Nothing_ worked, and he was only becoming more panicked…

His breaths came shallowly, and he tossed and turned restlessly. He knew he was probably being noisy, but he couldn’t stop himself…

The light suddenly flickered on, and Yuri squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden bright intrusion. He kept them clenched shut, hoping Yuuri would turn them off and forget he’d heard anything, or better yet, believe he’d _never_ heard anything. Alas, luck was not on his side. He heard approaching footfalls, and a warm hand felt at his forehead. “Yuri.” Yuuri whispered, but the boy refused to acknowledge his presence, pretending to be asleep. He didn’t need the man seeing more of his weak side. “It’s okay.” The man continued calmly. “Everything will be fine.”

_No it won’t._

“I told you I was going to help you. I promise I won’t let Victor or Yakov shout at you.” No response. Yuuri sighed, stroking the top of his head. “I won’t let you down.”

_Everyone else has._

“You know when I couldn’t sleep, my kaasan would read to me. Would you like that?”

_I’m not a child!_

Yuri wanted to snap, but refrained.

“I didn’t bring a book, but I have a few saved on my phone. I’m taking it you don’t know much about Japanese literature…” Yuri heard the man move away, and then return, settling on the half of the bed Yuri wasn’t taking up. There was a few tapping sounds, and then Yuuri was reading out the title of a book. “ _The Setting Sun_. It’s a renowned book written by Osamu Dazai, although not as well-known as _No Longer Human._ I don’t have a big variety, so I hope you’ll like it…” Yuuri took a breath, and then commenced his reading, in English for Yuri’s comfort.

Focusing on Yuuri’s warm voice was a good distraction from his panic, and the way Yuuri was rubbing his upper back helped as well. It was a comfort he’d never had before, and he was immensely jealous of other children for having access to this comfort so readily. It felt _amazing_. As he steadily drifted off, he murmured something resembling thanks to the man.

Yuri heard one last sentence before he fell asleep completely.

“It is fine, Yuri-kun. Sleep tight.”

_**Sleep tight.** _

 

* * *

 

 

**PREVIEW FOR NEXT CHAPTER:**

 

“I can’t believe you ran away!”

“I didn’t run away, Victor. I took Yuri for a well-deserved night off.”

“You ran away, with MY son!”

“Oh, he’s your son _now_ , is he? You can’t pick and choose parenthood, Victor. I know you want us to be unattached and happy, but we can’t do that with Yuri around. I can’t do that. It’s wrong. We’ve been over this-“

“I’m trying!”

“Not **_hard enough._** I’ve been sympathetic Victor, because I love you, and I want our personal relationship to work as well as our professional one, but it’s time to try harder.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.”

“This isn’t about sides, Victor. _He’s_ the child in the equation. **_Not you.”_**

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to do something with him. Just the two of you. Bond. Show him you’re ready to be there for him instead of just _expecting_ him to know.”

“I don’t exactly have the time, Yuuri. You need to be practicing-“

"Yakov is still here. I’m sure he won’t object to coaching me for the day.”

“What am I supposed to do with him?”

 

**AND:**

_I heard you aren’t competing for the rest of the year. Are you well?_

Yuri narrowed his eyes, trying to remember more about this Otabek person. He knew the boy was only a year older than him, but couldn’t recall much else…

 Still, it was nice of him to express his concerns. He hadn’t had a message from any of his fellow competitors in a while.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we go! The chapter filled with fluff and extreme cheesiness is over. Be prepared for something a little more dramatic in the next one! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and THANK YOU to everyone who continues to review and leave Kudos. It is much appreciated. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like. No pressure though. :)
> 
> PS: I hope everyone is doing alright with all of the stuff that's been happening in the world lately. I hope this chapter gave you a little bit of happiness!


	11. But I continue learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress is being made. Slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo...
> 
> Hi everyone, I've returned. I know it's been a while since I've updated, but a lot has been going on and I haven't really had the time nor motivation to update. That said, I don't intend on abandoning this, I still have a lot of ideas and my love for this fandom is still intact! 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was cut in half because I thought the second part was rushed. I'll update with the next one sometime this week. Whenever I have the time :3
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

“What a mess you have made of things, _Vitya._ ” Yakov remarked tiredly. “On the ice you have shown nothing but promise and talent, much like your son, but off of the ice…” He sighed, and grumbled something under his breath.

Victor didn’t need to hear the word he uttered. He already knew what it would be. _**Disappointment.**_

He knew it. Didn’t need it uttered. The word resounded loudly throughout his own skull whenever he was alone, whenever he remembered he had a son…

He wasn’t as delusional as everyone else thought he was.

“I’m trying.” How many times had he said this over the last couple of weeks? And how come no matter how many times he said it, it still felt like he was being dishonest? He was trying, he _knew_ he was, but…not enough. He wasn’t trying _enough._

And Yuri wasn’t making things any easier. If anything, he was determined to drag his feet and make the entire situation harder, deliberately. What other reason did he have to not tell Victor about his monetary situation? His refusal to speak up had been downright irresponsible. Matters could have been disastrous if Yuri’s grandfather was tossed onto the streets…

Yakov sighed again. _“Da,_ I know. It is admirable. Some men, however, aren’t cut out to be fathers. I think you are one of those men, Victor.”

That hurt. It hurt more than Victor wanted to admit. It stung so much that he allowed the hurt to inch onto his face. It was one thing to know he was failing as a father, but to know he was never ‘cut out’ for the position? It made him feel horribly inadequate. Yuuri was so amazing when it came to children, and he couldn’t match up…

“I am not judging you harshly, Victor.” Yakov said, sensing Victor’s disappointment. “I am not cut out for fatherhood. It’s why I devote myself solely to my pupils. We can’t all be…” He trailed off, unable to conjure up the right words. “Maybe it’s best you step back.” He settled on eventually. “Yuri has always been impulsive, but running away is even out of character for _him._ Such an extreme response isn’t healthy. He’s…changing. And not for the better.”

“It hasn’t been that long.” Victor shot back, a little defensive. “This is a one-off, Yakov. I doubt he would run away under normal circumstances.”

“And these aren’t normal circumstances, Victor. I don’t think you quite understand the responsibility you have with Yuri living with you. He may be a talented skater but he’s also a thirteen year old boy. You are responsible for training Katsuki, that is true, but you have an equally important duty to Yuri. Even if he _wasn’t_ your son-“

Victor knew all of this. Even if Yuuri hadn’t drilled these words into his head, his own brain mused about it often enough. He was inexperienced. He was hapless. He didn’t have the skills nor the natural instincts to pull this fatherly _thing_ off.

But he couldn’t give up. _Wouldn’t_ give up. He’d committed to this, and Yuuri would _**never**_ look him in the eye again if he just _gave up_ and sent Yuri back to Russia…

_He’d_ never be able to look himself in the mirror again…

And how would the kid feel? Sure, he was an insufferable, spoiled little brat, but he was also a sensitive child who’d been rejected too many times already. One more push from Victor and Yuri might just shatter completely.

“-reconsider, Victor. Consider what is best for Yuri.”

Victor shook his head stubbornly, ignoring Yakov’s displeased expression. “I made this arrangement. It may have been hasty, but I intend to follow through with my decision.”

“Victor-“

_**“You have to see him with Yuuri.”**_ Victor interrupted sharply.

Yakov paused, considering.

Victor went on, quickly. “He trusts him, Yakov. I know he does. He still insists on maintaining the tough guy façade, but he listens to Yuuri more than he listens to even _you_. And the way Yuuri treats him, it’s just…” He trailed off, feeling a small surge of jealousy.

_Yuuri seems more concerned with Yuri lately. He’s putting the boy before even his **skating.**_

Is that what parents were supposed to do? Is that what _he_ should do? Put Yuuri’s career second? When he’d invested so much heart in getting the Japanese male a gold medal?

Victor was facing a dilemma.

_Is family more important than **everything else?**_

“Biologically, he’s your son. I can’t take him from you, even if I want to. I just hope you know what you’re doing. It isn’t just _your_ life that is being changed by this. Katsuki is a kind soul, it isn’t right for him to be taken advantage of. He isn’t Yuri’s mother. He shouldn’t sacrifice his career because of someone else’s son.”

_**Someone else’s son.** _

It was true though, wasn’t it? He hadn’t known Yuuri for years. He hadn’t confessed his relation to Yuri willingly. Yuuri was just being dragged into this…

The sound of his iPhone ringing cut his thoughts short, and he fumbled to answer it. He’d expected Yuuri to ring soon. After the initial shock (and horror) of realising his son and boyfriend had ran off together, he’d reasoned that Yuuri would have taken the boy to another inn or hotel to cool off for the night. It was a logical conclusion, one he felt confident in, even though he’d wanted to storm every possible place of accommodation to drag his son home. By the ear, likely. That had surprised him. He’d expected his first desire to be bringing Yuuri back to his bedroom. Yet, he’d been more concerned for his son…

Maybe his fatherly instincts weren’t _completely_ absent.

“Yuuri.” He greeted evenly, relief evident in his voice. “Are you okay?”

_“Hi, Victor.”_ Yuuri sounded sheepish, and Victor could easily tell he felt guilty. He wasn’t surprised. The other male was always so considerate of others, it only made sense he’d feel poorly about worrying Victor. _“Yes, I’m fine.”_

Even though Victor had initially been irritated with Yuuri’s actions, he couldn’t maintain that annoyance now. Not when Yuuri sounded so upset about doing what _he_ thought was right. Yuuri hadn’t taken Yuri away to be petty to Victor, or to make him feel bad. He’d done what he’d thought was best for everyone, and Victor couldn’t fault him for that. “Thank goodness.” He sighed. “And Yuri?”

_“Fine.”_ Yuuri reiterated confidently. _“He’s doing much better this morning.”_

“Good.” Victor meant it, as well. The last thing he wanted was for Yuri to be in an even fouler mood after resting overnight. It would not bode well for anyone.

_“Victor,”_ Yuuri began, a little hesitantly. _“I just wanted to say-“_

“Don’t worry.” Victor interrupted gently. “You don’t need to apologise-“

_“I wasn’t.”_ Yuuri’s voice was flat.

Victor paused, his eyebrows raising. Yes, he would acknowledge that Yuuri had done what he’d thought was best, but he had at least expected a courtesy apology from the Japanese male. After all, he had stolen _his_ son. That was illegal! Yuuri was lucky Victor hadn’t called the police about an abduction…

Unbidden, jealousy rose within him, bubbling hot in his chest. How was it that Yuuri had taken charge over his relationship with _**his own** _ son? How did he manage to gain Yuri’s trust? What made him so special?

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. Unbecoming of someone like Victor, and unfair to be inflicted on Yuuri. Yet Victor couldn’t bring himself to be rational. He’d spent all of the previous night tossing and turning, worried out of his mind about the pair, and now Yuuri was going to take the high road _again?_ He was sick and tired of being made to feel so inadequate…

_“I wasn’t going to apologise.”_ Yuuri continued, when Victor didn’t reply. _“If I didn’t take Yuri he would have run away. I…didn’t do anything wrong.”_ The male sounded unsure, but Victor knew he was asserting himself.

That didn’t mean Yuuri didn’t still feel bad, though. It was clear he felt trapped.

Victor should be patient. He should be kind. He shouldn’t lose his temper because Yuuri could run for the figurative hills, he’d already subjected himself to so much stress on the account of Victor…

But he was angry, and he was tired, and he just wanted-

_A **normal** relationship with my son._

_“I mean, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, Victor-“_

_Hurt my feelings? He’s treating **me** like the child in this equation!_

“ _Ty dolzhen byt' chertovski shutish'.” (You’ve got to be fucking kidding me)_ Victor murmured away from the speaker darkly, ignoring Yakov’s pointed, cautioning look. The old man had known Victor for years, and could easily recognise the signs of his anger.

_“-I know you’re his father, but he really needed support to feel better after-“_

Victor couldn’t listen to anymore. Not unless he wanted to snap. He had to cut their conversation short. “I’m taking it your checkout time is approaching?” He said curtly.

_“Um, yes. I was thinking you and Yakov could meet us somewhere for lunch? I think being out somewhere public will help with the tense atmosphere-“_

_There he goes again, dictating my relationship with **MY** son!_

“Catch a taxi back to the inn.” Victor barely managed to say without snarling. “I’m not rewarding poor behaviour, Yuuri. Bring him here so I can deal with him properly.”

_“Victor, I didn’t mean to-“_

Victor promptly disconnected the call, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache rapidly forming. _“Etot rebenok budet smert' menya.” (This kid will be the death of me.)_

“You shouldn’t take your insecurities out on Katsuki, Victor.” Of course, Yakov always got straight to the point. No flowery words or abstract descriptions. “He may be overstepping his boundaries, but it’s because he feels obligated to do so. Unless you tell him implicitly to take a step back, he will keep edging forward.” When Victor merely massaged his temples, Yakov went on. “Kids test a relationship, Victor. And your relationship is _**new.**_ It isn’t ready to withstand the pressure of a boy like Yuri.”

“I can’t do this right now, Yakov.” Victor said tightly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Can you please just leave me alone for a few moments to think?”

The old coach grumbled, but stalked off nevertheless.

Victor knew he was being rude. The man had come to Russia just to help him with Yuri, yet he couldn’t pretend to be pleasant presently. He needed to compose himself before he went on a furious rampage. All of the stress that had come with his new, _**personally forged** _ arrangement was finally getting to him….

And he still had to deal with the two Yuuri/Yuri’s when they returned.

_I wish I could consume an unholy amount of vodka…_

But he couldn’t.

_I may be a bad parent, but I’m not about to become an alcoholic one._

 

* * *

 

 

“Did Victor sound angry on the phone?”

The question is equal parts curious, and concerned.

Yuri is sitting beside him in the taxi, bouncing his leg nervously and scowling out the window. He hadn’t wanted to return to the inn yet. He’d tried stalling in every possible way, packing his overnight suitcase at a tediously slow pace and taking a ridiculously long shower that had Yuuri wondering if he’d _drowned._ The Japanese man wouldn’t be surprised if the hotel ran out of hot water completely…

“Not at all.” Yuuri lied. He’d certainly heard the annoyance in Victor’s voice prior to the man ending the call, but he didn’t want to alarm Yuri. “Just worried about you.”

“About _me?”_ Yuri seemed sceptical.

_“Of course.”_ Yuuri said firmly. “If anything, I’d say he was more worried about you then me.”

Yuri snorted doubtfully. _“Da,_ whatever you say.”

Yuuri sighed. Even when Victor expressed worry for Yurio, the boy was still in denial about the man caring about him. He seemed determined to push him away. “I’d like if you tried to get along with Victor and Yakov.” He said carefully, trying to ignore the venomous glare that suddenly landed on him. “We can’t figure this out if you don’t try to be cordial.”

“Fine. I’ll play nice with the meddling men.”

_He agreed faster than I thought. Maybe he is starting to listen to me..._

“I’m hungry. Can we stop somewhere for lunch?”

“I could make something when we get back to the inn…”

“And eat with Yakov and Victor?”

_I can understand why that doesn’t sound appealing…_

Yuuri didn’t really feel like cooking, anyhow. That would involve _looking away_ from the other three males. Who knew what could happen then…

“I know a nice _yakisoba_ stand near the fishermen’s wharf. We could go there.”

Yuri seemed to perk up somewhat, offering a small grin. “Sure.”

_It’s a good thing I remembered to bring my wallet…_

 

* * *

 

 

“I can pay.” Yuri insisted in a growl, fuming as Yuuri handed him a paper plate. The delicious aroma of the noodles wafted appealingly, and his stomach growled. He’d adamantly told the Japanese man he was capable of paying for his own meal, but Yuuri had gone ahead and paid for the both of them anyhow. It seemed Yuuri had a backbone.

“I know.” Yuuri acknowledged, eagerly beginning to slurp up the yakisoba. “But with your situation as it is…” He trailed off awkwardly, stuffing more of the noodles into his mouth to avoid speaking.

Yuri _hated_ pity. He wouldn’t stand for it. “I don’t _need_ help.” He said snappishly.

“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.” Yuuri managed to get out, cheeks puffed from his food. They could stretch quite far, a thing Yuri found rather disturbing. He swallowed thickly, and Yuri winced. “If you want,” He went on. “You can pay me back when your monetary situation is a bit clearer.”

Yuri relaxed at this.

_This isn’t charity. **Just** a loan._

Yuri joined in eating, and the two consumed their noodles with only the sound of slurping between them. Yuri was a little messy with his chopsticks, and once he was finished, Yuuri offered him a tissue he had seemingly procured from nowhere.

“To clean your face.” The dark haired man prompted.

Yuri accepted the tissue grudgingly, mopping at his mouth roughly. He crumpled the tissue and tossed it into a nearby bin, alongside his used plate and chopsticks. His throat felt a little dry now…

“I’m thirsty.” He stated in a grumble.

Yuuri immediately fished in his wallet, handing him over a few notes. “Go get yourself something.” He bode. “I’ll be waiting at the taxi.” The driver had kindly allowed a short pit-stop, so long as he’d be allowed to purchase himself some tea whilst he was waiting for the pair to finish their brunch.

It didn’t take long for Yuri to return with a small bottle of sugarless juice. He chugged it down on the short drive to the inn, and practically _dragged_ his feet when the two arrived. It was obvious he was apprehensive about seeing Victor and Yakov again.

The aforementioned men were waiting in the kitchen when they went inside, both sipping silently at cups of black coffee. Yuuri’s sister was chattering obliviously to the pair, and she perked up when she saw her brother venture inside. “Yuuri!” She greeted brightly. “About time you got back! _Kaasan_ and _Otosan_ were so worried about you taking off…”

Yuuri felt a little embarrassed at this. He was a twenty three year old man, was it _really_ inconceivable he’d want some alone time away from the inn? “I’m fine.” He assured. His eyes were drawn to Victor, who was purposefully avoiding his gaze. It was an action amiss with the Russian’s typical behaviour. He’d expected the man to cling on him as soon as he walked into the room. “Please tell them I’m sorry.” Yuuri requested, bowing his head in apology. “Did they require me for anything?”

“Not that I know of. You can tell them tonight at dinner yourself. I have work to do.” Then, she turned to Yuri with a smitten sort of look. “Aw! It’s good to see Yurio-chan back!”

Victor glanced up at this, unreadable eyes scrutinising his son. When he appeared satisfied with his scan, he looked back to his coffee glumly.

“You look well-rested.” Yuuri’s sister went on kindly. “And your hair is really wavy!”

Yuri blushed at this. He’d sworn Yuuri to secrecy over what had occurred the previous night. He’d been especially adamant that the braiding never be spoken about. “I slept with it wet…” He murmured.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Yakov spoke up for the first time. “You’ll catch cold.” He pushed the daily local paper away, putting his fingers in a steeple as he peered at Yuri severely. “Your immune system will falter in unfamiliar surroundings.”

Yuri scoffed. “This place is _nothing_ compared to Russia. I grew up in the cold. I have a strong constitution.”

“Still-“

“Will you stop fucking coddling me! I’m not a baby!”

Victor opened his mouth, likely to scold his son, but Yuuri was quicker.

“Yurio,” He said with light disapproval. “Yakov-san is just expressing concern for you. You shouldn’t be rude to someone who cares about your welfare.”

The entirety of the room (excluding Yuuri’s sister, who ducks out tactfully) is surprised when Yuri responds with sulky respect. “Whatever.” He huffed. “ _Sorry.”_ He added with attitude.

The three men gape, and Yuri glowers down at the ground, cheeks pink with defeat. He doesn’t often give in to anyone, let alone some Japanese failure. Yet, for some reason, he feels compelled to take Yuuri’s advice. The man had been nothing but kind and considerate to him over the last twenty four hours, and he supposed (albeit reluctantly) he owed him respect for that. So he would concede, just this once.

And also, Yuuri had a point in what he said. Yakov wasn’t actively _trying_ to be his enemy.

Yakov fumbled for a moment, his stoic persona momentarily failing. “T-that’s fine, _Yuratchka_.” Then, he shared a considering look with Victor, which did not escape Yuuri’s attention. What had the two been convening about in his absence? He hoped they hadn’t come up with a radical solution… “Katsuki here is right…”

Yuuri was tempted to request Yakov repeat his words. It may have been immature, but he liked hearing when he was right. It wasn’t admitted that often. Still, he felt a little bashful at the attention he was being doled. He hadn’t yet grown accustomed to it. Feeling the urge to be productive, and keep his hands busy, he offered the two a smile. “Are you hungry? Yurio and I have already eaten, but I can prepare some lunch.”

Yuri snorted rudely at this. “Are you their maid, Katsuki? I’m sure they can manage.”

“Your parents prepared us a filling breakfast.” Yakov said. “Japanese hospitality is most intriguing.”

Yuuri felt grateful for his parents. They were always courteous, even to non-paying guests. He’d have to thank them properly later. “That’s good.” He said honestly. “And dinner last night?”

“We managed.” Yakov said dryly. “We are two full grown men.”

“May we skip the pleasantries and speak of what is truly important?” Victor’s voice resounds sharply in the room. “We are wasting valuable training time.”

“What is there to talk about?” Yuri scoffed bitingly, eyeing his father challengingly. “I’m sure you two have already made your own plans, _like usual.”_

_“Da_ , of course I will pay the bills for your grandfather’s housing, Yuri. At least until you are in a position to do so again. What I really want to discuss is your reckless running off last night.”

“It wasn’t reckless. Katsuki was with me.”

“It wasn’t very adult of you to run away.”

“He’s thirteen, Victor.” Yuuri reminded patiently.

“I’m trying to speak with _**my** _ son, Yuuri. Please be quiet. At least for a moment.”

Yuuri seemed hesitant, but nodded his head stiffly. “Fine.”

Victor took a deep, steadying breath. “If Yuuri hadn’t followed you, you would have run off and _anything_ could have happened to you. I understand you were upset, but there are more mature ways of dealing with your emotions than running off and endangering yourself.”

Victor actually sounded…reasonable. It was surprising to Yuuri. He’d been preparing to intervene at any moment.

“I needed to get away!” Yuri, predictably, argued his case. “You and Yakov were being-“

“I apologise if we overwhelmed you, Yuri. But it is still no excuse. There is never an excuse for putting yourself in a potentially dangerous situation purposefully.”

Yuri gawked. “Are you seriously lecturing me when you were the one who-“

_"YA pytayus' ponyat' tebya, Yuri. YA byl by priznatelen, yesli vy vstretili menya na polputi." ("I'm trying to understand you, Yuri. I'd appreciate if you met me halfway.")_

Victor was trying to _understand_ him? And he wanted Yuri to return the favour? Easier said than done. Yet, he couldn’t deny the man. That would be childish, no matter how reluctant he was to try and work with him. When had he and Victor ever spoken about their _feelings_ honestly? _Without_ arguing? They tended to clash over everything when they were actually being serious about something…

“Victor apologised, Yurio.” Yuuri reminded. Victor had spoken slowly enough for him to grasp the Russian sentence. “Can you just try to get along long enough to have a proper conversation? We can’t just stay stuck like this. We have lives to get back to.”

Yuuri appeared tired. Utterly spent. It was clear the pressure was getting to him.

Victor’s ire, which had emerged at witnessing Yuuri’s talent with his son, began to melt away somewhat. It was still there, but had reduced to a manageable extent. He hated to see his lover exhausted. _“Po krayney mere, sdelat' eto dlya cheloveka, kotoryy provel vchera vecherom nyanchit'sya vas.” (At least do it for the man who spent last night coddling you.)_ Victor said this quickly, words tripping over one another, and as accented as possible. He knew Yuuri wouldn’t understand the sentence if he spoke this way.

“Honestly, I feel like all we ever do is talk.” Yuri replied bluntly, not bothering to speak in Russian. When Victor sent him a displeased look, he shrugged. “I’m not going to disguise myself, Victor. Do you seriously think it’s fair to exclude Yuuri from a conversation after he’s been playing mommy for you?”

Yuuri flushed at this. “No! I haven’t-” He sent a pleading look to Yakov, but the man merely busied himself drinking his coffee. “I’m not.” He finished lamely. “I’m just helping. That’s all. I mean, I’m _much_ too young-“

“Not compared to Victor.” Yakov voiced. “He was a father much younger.” He chortled. “Much, much younger.”

“Are you supposed to be helping, Yakov? Or just cracking poor jokes?” Victor said, unamused.

“You can definitely tell he doesn’t make jokes often.” Yuri snorted. _“Lame.”_

_"Deti v eti dni ..." (Kids these days…)_ Yakov grumbled.

“At least I’m not ancient like you, _pozhiloy chelovek.” (Old man.)_ Yuri smirked. “You must nearly be able to move into an old person’s home yourself. Your ex-wife certainly won’t want you around.”

“Brutal, Yuri.” Victor remarked dryly. “I’d say you’ll make him cry, but Yakov is incapable of expressing such emotions. His tear ducts turned sandy years ago.”

“Maybe he cried too much during the divorce.”

Yuuri watched the two banter, bemused.

_They have three dynamics. Coach and pupil. Enemy and enemy. And…rival brothers?_

Yuuri sighed as Yakov sent them a deadly glare.

_Now we just have to work on father and son._

The time for solely talking was over. It was time for doing.

Yuuri had no doubt that he’d have to deal with Victor’s obvious dormant jealousy at some point, but when the time came, he’d stay resilient. For now though, he was long overdue for a session on the ice. It would be a good outlet for Yurio’s tension, as well.

He also felt a yearning to see Yuuko. It would be nice to chat about something easy.

He couldn’t let this conflict with Yurio and Victor completely consume him. That would only be toxic. For _**all** _ of them.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Another abrupt ending. 
> 
> Now, about the story...
> 
> I've been thinking about the direction I want to take this, and I've decided I want to focus on writing about the family (and romantic for Yuuri and Victor) relationship between the characters. The skating will still be there, but for anyone who's expecting SUPER detailed skating, I'm sorry but you won't find it here. 
> 
> ALSO
> 
> If anyone has read my tags, you know I intend on adding smut to this fic. However, I think I might make this a series and add the smut to a separate story since I'm struggling to fit anything in here. It will take place in this timeline, though!
> 
> PS: 
> 
> If anyone wants to read some lighthearted ice skating family (I certainly enjoy writing it) you should check out my other Yuri!!! on Ice stories. 
> 
> AS ALWAYS a big THANK YOU to everyone who comments and leaves Kudos! I would have just given up by now without you guys! Also, I'm really sorry I took so long to update. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like! No pressure though. 
> 
> See ya!


	12. A reason to start over new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri makes a new friend, Yuuri seeks advice from someone more seasoned than himself, and Victor tries bonding with his son, to minimal success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's late with updating again! Me! Ha ha...
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long to come out. I'm struggling a little with writing this, and I feel like the story is just kind of circling. But I gave it some thought, and I'm trying to get it moving forward!
> 
> Also, I haven't had access to the blessed thing that is wireless internet until now...
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

**_< I heard you aren’t competing for the rest of the year. Are you well?>_ **

He received the message in his email. The account linked to the message belonged to Otabek Atabek. At first, Yuri didn’t recognise the name, before a fleeting flash of tanned skin and a sober face flashed through his mind.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, trying to remember more about this Otabek person. He knew the boy was only a little older than him, but couldn’t recall much else…

Still, it was nice of him to express his concerns. He hadn’t had a message from any of his fellow competitors in a while, and an email seemed much more personal than a message on another social media account.

But what to reply? If it were another of Yuri’s fellow competitors, who he spoke with on a regular basis, he would have shot off an elusive (and somewhat caustic) response. But with Otabek…

Well, he would feel bad for doing that to Otabek. They hardly knew one another, and the other male had been kind enough to express his concerns.

_It’s…_

Yuri thought, as he immediately searched the boy on _Instagram_. The boy didn’t have as many followers as him, nor did he have as many pictures, but what pictures he did have…

_Really nice. He’s **really** nice._

He was handsome, in a way Yuri thought was quite exotic. He didn’t look like _anyone_ he knew from Russia, and he found it a refreshing change.

So, despite his usual hesitation to initiate contact with strangers, Yuri decided to send a polite (if not a little _friendly_ , uncharacteristically enough) response. He typed it up carefully on the laptop Yakov had brought him, re-reading his reply once he’d finished. For some reason, he wanted to make a relatively good impression on the other boy.

**_< To: Otabek Atabek>_ **

**_Yes, I’m well. There is no need for worry.  I am taking the rest of the year off for personal reasons._ **

There was _no way_ he was going to mention he was being punished by _Victor._ That would be plain _mortifying._ Besides, he didn’t want to give any hints to his parentage. His relation to Victor was still a viciously guarded secret in the skating world. He’d be treated completely different if anyone found out about his biological father.

Yuri was just about to exit his browser, when a faint ding was heard, indicating a new email. He raised his blond eyebrows in slight surprise when he saw Otabek had sent a reply already. It seemed he’d been checking his emails at the same time as Yuri.

_Like we’re in sync, or something…_

Yuri shook away the silly thought, focusing on the new message.

**_< From: Otabek Atabek>_ **

**_I am glad to hear that, Yuri. I will not pry further. I hope you have a good year._ **

There was a sense of finality in the email that Yuri didn’t like, and before he could help himself, he was sending back a rapid response. For some reason, he _really_ didn’t want their conversation to end there. He wanted it to continue, until he got bored and ended it himself.

**_< To: Otabek Atabek>_ **

**_Thanks. I hope you have a good competing year, as well. Will you keep me updated on our age division?_ **

_That_ was an adequate excuse to continue keeping in contact. And a reasonable request, as well. Mila wasn’t in the same age group as him, and although she’d likely impart information and gossip to him, it would be better to hear news directly from someone in the same division as him. Besides, he’d feel uncomfortable approaching someone else, and Otabek was practically offering himself up for the task. Yuri didn’t know much about him, but he got the impression that Otabek would be glad to help him out.

He seemed like that sort of person. The type that went out of their way to assist others, even if they didn’t know them that well. Like a certain Japanese competitor…

Yuri sighed, as he was reminded of Yuuri. He was currently in the male’s room, which he’d generously given Yuri for the remainder of his stay at the inn. He was sitting at the man’s desk, idly staring at the suitcase of belongings Yakov had brought him. So far, he’d only rummaged through it to retrieve a fresh pair of clothes and his laptop. The rest was just sitting there, waiting to be neatly stored away.

But Yuri was stalling. _Procrastinating._ Unpacking that suitcase validated the fact that he’d be staying in this place for the remainder of the year, and that there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He was still foolishly hoping that Victor would change his mind, and they could pretend that this entire fiasco never occurred. He could return to Russia, start earning his own money again, and try to avoid Victor and Yuuri for the rest of his life. It sounded more preferable than being stuck with the pair, even if Yuuri had been treating him nicely. At the end of it all, Yuri was still an independent young man, and he _hated_ relying on anyone else.

He cursed himself for his childish behaviour since his arrival here, wishing he’d managed to act like an adult. It would have prevented this entire situation from unfurling. But _no_ , he’d had to act like a stupid, jealous little boy…

Yuri gritted his teeth, and kicked at the ground below him. Yuuri’s computer chair was up rather high, and he hadn’t been able to adjust it. It left his legs swinging in the air, like he was some overgrown toddler.

_Kind of_ overgrown. At thirteen, Yuri still had yet to hit a real growth spurt. It was positively infuriating. He hated being looked down upon all of the time.

_I bet Otabek is tall for his age._

Such a thought made Yuri’s cheeks feel a little hot, and he wondered if the heating in the inn was up too high. Although the rest of his body felt fine… 

Another ding, and Yuri hastily refreshed his emails, reading the reply eagerly.

**_< From Otabek Atabek>_ **

**_Of course, it would be my pleasure. Perhaps in return, you could keep me updated on your life? I won’t tell anyone, though. I’m just curious._ **

Yuri was mid-way through his response when Otabek sent another email.

**_Would you like to be friends?_ **

Yuri blinked in surprise, jaw dropping. It wasn’t often someone asked to be friends with him, he supposed it had something to do with his bitter, aloof attitude. And even if they did, they never did it so blatantly. Usually they just casually asked if he’d like to hang out sometime…

Yuri was shocked to find himself considering the proposition. On a typical day, he’d snort and slam the laptop lid down, ignoring the email completely and completely crushing the other person’s dreams. He’d always told himself he didn’t have time for friends, especially those in his own age group. Friendship would only get in the way of competing, and he’d always found other kids his age to be exceedingly immature. He didn’t have time for frivolity or fun. He had gold medals to win and score records to break. He also had an elderly grandfather he was responsible for, and a severe coach who disproved of distractions.

But Otabek…

From what Yuri could remember, the other male had always been quiet and contemplative. Not loud or obnoxious. He seemed mature for his age, and _almost_ as isolated as Yuri…

_What do I have to lose?_

Yuri eventually thought to himself, after mulling over Otabek’s question. The boy had already sent another email, beseeching Yuri not to feel pressured into anything. Like Yuri was some pansy who couldn’t say _no_ when he wanted to.

_It’s not like we’re going to be on the ice together this year, and we aren’t harsh rivals or anything. As arrogant as it seems, he’s not **good** enough to beat me. Not yet. He’s easy to talk to…_

**_< To Otabek Atabek>_ **

**_Don’t freak out._** He added a small, seldom used smiley emoticon here to make his statement seem mellow, and not harsh. An act of kindness he wouldn’t usually bother with. **_We can be friends. So long as you don’t annoy me too much, Da?_**

His last sentence was not a request. If Otabek pissed him off, Yuri wouldn’t hold back from getting angry. He was trying to do that too much with other matters, these days. He didn’t have an endless supply of patience to spare on people.

_Unlike Yuuri…_

**_< From: Otabek Atabek>_ **

**_That sounds reasonable. Do you want to exchange mobile numbers?_ **

It was the fastest amount of time Yuri had ever provided someone else with his personal number. He almost feel a little embarrassed of his own hastiness.

“I haven’t seen you look this stressed in a while, Yuuri.” Yuko remarked with a light frown. She pushed a small glass of sake to the other male, ignoring his soft ‘no thanks’. “Yuuri,” She said patiently. “It looks like you need it. Come on, one drink won’t kill you.”

Yuuri didn’t often fold to peer pressure like this, but he trusted Yuuko, and the small amount of alcohol appeared very appealing after the last few days he’d had. So, he took a small sip, resolving to savour the drink opposed to chugging it down and demanding more. He’d seen his father doing that many times, and it always made the man very intoxicated. That was the _last_ thing Yuri and Victor needed right now. “Arigato.” He said softly, and knew not to bother objecting when the woman pushed him a small plate of rice balls. It was never wise to drink on an empty stomach, and Yuuri hadn’t eaten since breakfast that day.

After speaking with Victor earlier, he’d ran straight to Yuko’s, venting his worries on the ice for a few hours before stepping off the rink with a more relaxed mindset. He was grateful Victor hadn’t followed him. He’d needed the space to clear his head. Dealing with Yuri the night previous had sapped a lot from him. It only made him resolve to _never_ have kids. **_Ever._** He wondered how Yuuko would cope with _three_ moody teenagers when the time came…

She’d probably do exceptionally well. She was a natural parent, even if she sometimes got a little frazzled dealing with her three children. It was only natural, he supposed, considering she was raising _three_ vivacious girls.

Yuuri nibbled on a rice ball with tired eyes, and started when Yuko grasped his other hand. “I haven’t seen you and Victor at the rink practicing. What’s going on?”

Yuuri lamented the fact he couldn’t tell her the truth. It would have been nice to vent about everything to someone. He’d have to settle for any minor snippets of honesty. “We’ve been…having some difficulties.”

Yuko took a sip of her own sake, frown deepening. “Victor is wonderful, Yuuri. But if he isn’t a compatible coach, you can always find someone else. Or, like I’ve said before, you could try going out alone-“

“That isn’t it!” Yuuri was appalled on Victor’s behalf. “He may be new at coaching, but he’s doing a wonderful job. This is about something more…personal.”

“Does this have something to do with the little blond teenager currently staying at the inn?” Yuko inquired knowingly. “Is Yurio causing problems?” Yuuri tried to keep his face impassive, but the minor wince he gave was answer enough. Yuuko’s eyes flickered in observation, and she pursed her lips. “I don’t want to pry, but why hasn’t he gone back to Russia yet? The triplets heard some gossip about him not competing this year on a forum, but surely that isn’t-“ Yuko paused when she saw Yuuri wince tellingly. _Again._ “It’s true!?” She gasped in surprise. “What did he do to get suspended!?”

Yuuri shushed her, looking around in paranoia. They were in the ice palace’s café, and although it was currently empty, one could never be too cautious. Also, the triplets could be lurking around somewhere. He knew Takeshi was watching them, but they were sneaky, and could easily give him the slip should they grow bored enough. They were certainly a handful. It made him feel lousy for feeling so overwhelmed by Yuri. Here Yuko and Takeshi were, hardworking parents who ran a business, who were also juggling three triplets. He couldn’t even handle one _teenager._ “He isn’t suspended.” Yuuri whispered, around a mouthful of rice. “He’s taking the year off for… _personal reasons_.”

_Please don’t ask-_

“Why? What personal reasons? Is everything okay? Is he sick?”

Yuuri swallowed, and gave a small huff of laughter. “I thought you weren’t going to pry.”

Yuko blushed furiously at this. “Oh, right. Sorry, Yuuri. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine.” Yuuri assured, not wanting to distress her. He knew she only had their best interests at heart, so any questions were purely motivated by concern. “He isn’t sick. He’s healthy and well. He just needs to deal with some… _emotional_ problems.”

Yuko’s pretty face melted into worry, her maternal side surfacing. “Oh no. Is the poor boy going to be alright, Yuuri? Teenagers these days have so many problems with their mental health. Is he getting the treatment he deserves?”

_Treatment? She’s going overboard again. Although…_

Maybe Yuri _would_ benefit from some treatment. Perhaps seeing a therapist would help him work through some of his anger issues…

“It hasn’t come to that yet.” Yuuri said truthfully. “Nevertheless, he’s staying with Victor and me for the rest of the year. It’s just putting a bit of a strain on our relationship.”

“How so?” With Yuko’s light voice and non-judgemental attitude, Yuuri thought _she’d_ make an adequate counsellor, if she held back on her curiosity a little.

“We’re arguing over how to best deal with him.” And she could certainly get Yuuri to speak truthfully about his problems. Although, that may have been because they were childhood friends. “We have differing methods when it comes to living with thirteen year old kids.”

“Why is he living with you two? Wouldn’t it be better if he returned home, to his parents?”

Yuuri shook his head. He _wished_ it were that simple, for Yuri’s sake. He would never wish the boy away solely for his own benefit. “I don’t think he has contact with his mother. I don’t even know if she’s _alive_. And his grandfather can’t care for him, he’s in a nursing home. Yuri has to pay the bills just for his accommodation…”

“Oh, the poor boy. That must put so much pressure on his shoulders…”

Yuuri nodded his agreement, taking a gulp of his sake. It made his body feel pleasantly warm. “It does. Which is why Victor’s going to foot the expenses for the remainder of the year for him. So he doesn’t have to fret so much about his grandfather…”

“Why isn’t his coach doing that? I don’t know much about coach’s salaries, but I assumed at Yuri’s professional level, his coach would have enough money to take care of that.”

“You could say Victor feels responsible for him.”

Immediately, Yuuri knew he’d been too obvious in his answer. Yuko was cocking her head thoughtfully, the beginning of understanding beginning to dwell in her eyes.

“But Victor isn’t his father.” She began slowly. “And _you’re_ not his mother. So why would he take on this responsibility when he promised to focus his attention solely on you-“ Yuko paused, her eyes widening.

Yuuri sighed in frustration.

_She’s figured it out. How could I be so **stupid!?**_

Do not misunderstand him, Yuuri trusted Yuko completely. The woman knew how to keep a secret and would never dream of betraying him for the sake of money or publicity. She would hold this information close to her chest and never release a peep. However…

_Victor and Yuri are going to be **furious** with me. They don’t know Yuko-chan like me, they’ll be worried she’ll sell her story to the highest bidder! I **have** to get her to- _

“This explains a lot.” Yuko admitted softly, interrupting Yuuri’s panicked thoughts. He managed to block out his shock enough to listen to her speak. “I knew from the moment I met Victor that he just wanted to be with you. There’s no other explanation for this, really. And the way Yurio looks at him when he thinks no one is looking…” She trailed off contemplatively. “I thought it was just hero-worship with a hint of jealousy. But it’s because…” Yuko cleared her throat, not daring to voice the words burning the tip of her tongue. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.” She repeated redundantly. “ _Wow._ Who would have thought…?” Evidently, she was miffed.

Yuuri relaxed when she didn’t immediately begin freaking out, demanding he stop seeing a man who had a secret thirteen year old son. Many others would do such a thing. “I want to help them.” Yuuri imparted. “No, I **_will_** help them.” He amended determinedly. “Even if it costs me my skating career. It’s what’s **_right_**.” Voicing his resolution only made Yuuri more determined.

Yuko sighed, and poured Yuuri more sake. “It won’t need to come to that.” She said firmly. “You’re forgetting I am a parent of three difficult children. I can help you, Yuuri. Even if it’s just in secret. I have a feeling you don’t want Victor finding out about this.”

Yuuri slumped downwards in relief. He was glad to have imparted this burden with someone else. He didn’t feel as alone anymore. It was good to have additional support. “Thank you.” He murmured, with the utmost sincerity. “You’re the best, Yuko.”

Yuko beamed, losing her serious attitude. “I know.” She chirped, raising her glass. Yuuri obediently clinked his against hers. “I can be your go-to girl for parenting advice from here on out. I’m **_always_** here for a consult, Yuuri. And if you ever need a break from Yurio, send him over and I’ll find a way to keep him busy.”

Yuuri stared at his childhood crush like she had descended from the heavens. Takeshi really was one lucky guy.

_Let the parenting lessons commence._

* * *

 

Victor watched with vague concern as Yuri looked down at his iPhone, giving a, much to Victor’s shock, _giggle._

His son was _giggling._

He hadn’t heard the boy giggle like that since he was a baby! When Victor still used to visit, and pull funny faces to amuse the boy. It was one of the only things Victor had been able to do to make the boy smile, asides from singing and giving him a new toy to play with.

Yet, here Yuri was, glancing down at his phone screen, and _giggling._

And not just _any_ giggle. A light-hearted giggle. A genuinely happy giggle. A giggle that was precious to his ears. A giggle he hadn’t realised he’d been wanting to hear…

And it wasn’t directed at him.

And that made the dormant jealousy inside him re-surface with a vengeance. _Who_ exactly was his son giggling at? And if it wasn’t _who_ , than _what?_ He knew it was nosy, but he tried to covertly peek at his son’s iPhone. Alas, from where he was sitting, glimpsing anything other than the case was impossible.

Yuri had come down into the kitchen about half an hour ago, whining about being hungry. Victor had been inside the kitchen since Yuuri had left for the ice palace, solemnly waiting for him to return home, and trying to soothe his mounting irritation. This was twice the Japanese male had left him over the last forty eight hours. How was he to speak with Yuuri when the other man was always taking off somewhere?

_At least,_

Some darkly envious part of him hissed.

_He didn’t kidnap **your** son this time. _

Victor went to frown, but stopped himself.

**_No._ ** _That isn’t **fair.** He didn’t kidnap Yuri. He kept him safe at a hotel for the night. _

And it was because of Yuuri that Yuri was currently so calm. After their joined teasing of Yakov had tapered off, Yuri had remained amicable with him. Something Victor hadn’t expected. Sure, he had refused to eat with him, but his refusal was polite, and he’d even foregone continuing their earlier argument. It was an unsteady truce, but a truce nonetheless. Not to mention, when Yakov had left (he had his competitors to coach in Russia, after all. He couldn’t afford to stay too long) Yuri had given a relatively warm farewell to the man. They’d clasped hands, and murmured goodbye in Russian. Yuri even thanked him for delivering his belongings!

It was a completely different Yuri from the night before, and Victor was both impressed, and flabbergasted. One night away with Yuuri and his son was behaving in a less surly manner. He almost bordered on _respectful._ Well, as respectful as _Yuri_ could get. It was amazing, and Victor was relieved and grateful and…

So, so, so, very **_jealous._**

The way Yuri had said goodbye to Yakov was nothing compared to how he said goodbye to Yuuri when the other male left for the ice skating rink. He’d waved him off with a semi-grin. Sure, he’d flipped Yuuri off when the man had idly mentioned something about hide-and-seek, but that grin was unmistakeably fond.

Yuri was becoming _fond_ of Yuuri. This would have been fantastic, if Victor was involved. He felt horribly excluded, and wished he could do something for Yuri, something to make the young boy smile at him that way…

_Maybe we can do something together, whilst Yuuri’s out…_

“Yuri,” Victor addressed with a convincing smile. “Do you want to go for a run?”

Yuri shot him a withering look, his smile fading. “ _Nyet,_ not really.”

“You don’t want to get unfit in your off season.” Victor tried wheedling, still maintaining his smile. “Maybe we can get some shaved ice afterwards. Would you like that?”

Yuri rolled his icy blue eyes. “Yeah, because going for a run and finishing with shaved ice is _so_ healthy in my off season. Why even bother running?”

Victor nearly faltered at the sarcasm, but continued valiantly. “Well, we could watch television together. I’m sure you’re tired of sitting in the kitchen.”

“I don’t speak fluent Japanese.” Yuri reminded flatly. “And Yuuri’s sister is watching some Japanese drama. She keeps squealing.”

“A dip in the hot springs, then? The warm water always manages to relax me.”

Yuri raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Then why don’t _you_ take a bath? I’m fine.”

At this point, Victor wanted to throttle the boy. Couldn’t Yuri see he was _trying?_ It was painfully obvious he was trying to spend quality time with him. Victor almost wished Yuuri was here to see him fail, if only to witness him _trying._

“Besides, I had an unpleasant swim last night.” Yuri is more murmuring this to himself, than anything. He’s tapping away at his phone, eyes flickering over what Victor assumed was a text. Then, he giggled again.

_Is he high on something? And what does he mean by ‘an unpleasant swim’?_

“What do you mean an ‘unpleasant swim’?” Victor demanded. “Did you jump into the ocean?”

Yuri lost his focus on his phone, finally. “What?” He growled. “ _Nyet._ I am not suicidal! I accidentally fell in the hotel’s pool!” Then, he muttered something irritably in Russian.

Victor’s confusion was replaced with concern. He looked Yuri over carefully, searching for any ailments or injuries. “Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

Yuri rolled his eyes once more, and abandoned English completely. _“Yes, I am unscathed. Would you stop fretting? I am not a little kid! I can handle myself!”_

_“And you prove this by falling into a pool? What were you doing? Where was Yuuri?”_

_“He was there! The stupid fatso has already lectured me, so can you just shut up!?”_

_“Don’t talk to me like that, you little-“_

“I’m back!” A voice suddenly announces, and Victor turned to see Yuuri walking into the room, a refreshed smile upon his face. It seems the time away from Victor and Yuri had done him good. His smile, however, strains upon seeing the two Russian’s glaring at one another.

**_Now_ ** _he decides to show up? Why not when I’m actually doing the right thing?_

Victor feels sulky, and falls into a pout. This entire situation seemed completely unfair…

“You guys have been getting along, right?” Yuuri questioned a little hesitantly, hope swimming in his eyes.

Victor wants to wrap the unsure man in a hug. However, he also wants to be indignant that Yuuri is treating **_him_** like a child. Like he’s incapable of being around his own son! Which, of course, was _ludicrous_ , considering Victor was trying so hard-

“The old man keeps pestering me.” Yuri transitioned back to English. He sent Victor a petulant look. “He keeps asking me to do lame stuff with him.”

_“Old man? Why you-“_

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Victor?” He prompted a little unsurely. “English? Or Japanese?”

Victor took a deep, calming breath, before continuing in English. “I thought Yuri might want to spend some time with me. Considering he’s been doing nothing but stare at that iPhone all afternoon.”

“Oh.” Much to Victor’s relief, Yuuri seems pleased. He’s angling him a proud look. “Well, I think that’s nice of him to do, Yuri.”

“No one asked for your opinion, Japanese fatty. Go back to the ice rink and lose some more weight.”

Despite Yuri’s rude remark, Yuuri seems unaffected. Clearly, he’s becoming accustomed to Yuri’s insults. Victor, not so much. He hates seeing his son badmouth the man he loves…

But he remains silent. He doesn’t want to instigate another argument. That was just what Yuri wanted. He needed to be the adult in this scenario…

“Besides, I don’t speak pig.”

**_That is it-_ **

**_“Do you have no self-preservation?”_** Victor hissed at his son. _“If I were a crueller man-“_

_“Whatever.”_

_“Listen to me, you little bastard-“_

“Of COURSE I am a bastard!” Yuri snaps, choosing that _exact_ moment to fall back into English. His eyes, which had been swimming with uncaring disdain just a moment ago, are now filled with brimming tears.

It appeared Victor had chosen the wrong insult to use. He’d forgotten the negative implications the word had. Its true meaning.

And now Yuri was completely upset, lips trembling and fists clenched. He no longer resembled an irksome teenager. No. He looked like a lost little boy.

Que an appalled Yuuri contributing. “Victor!” He breathed, eyes wide in horror. “How could you say that to him!?”

“ _Nyet,_ I didn’t mean-“

“After all of this, how could you be so insensitive?”

“Yuuri, I wasn’t-“

“I thought we were supposed to be making improvement-“

Yuri’s angered stomping cut the pair off, and they watched despairingly as Yuri stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. They both sighed at the dramatic action, and Victor stood from his seat, resisting the urge to slam his _own_ hands on the table.

“ _Da_ , Yuuri we are.” He managed to grit out without raising his voice. “But it isn’t exactly easy. You seem to be forgetting how strained our relationship is. It’s easier for you two-“

“Of course it is, Victor. I’m not his father.” Yuuri agreed simply. “It’s only natural it will be more difficult for you to get along with him.”

_He’s so understanding. It only makes me feel **worse** about arguing with him. _

“I was trying to initiate some bonding time.” Victor tried to justify himself. “But he kept denying me. I got…frustrated.”

“He’s a teenager, Victor. It isn’t surprising he has an aversion to ‘hanging out’ with his father. Can you imagine voluntarily spending time with your own father at that age?”

“Can you?” Victor challenged. He didn’t wish to speak about his family life. Or lack, thereof. It was a private matter, one he didn’t feel comfortable discussing with Yuuri. Or anyone.

Yuuri appeared a little sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I always got along well with my parents. I spent a lot of time with them as a teenager. They were my main sources of support when I was training and competing. I guess I was a little different than most teenagers in that regard. I wasn’t embarrassed by them.”

_Yuuri’s parents are incredibly lucky to have such a sweet son._

“But my sister was different. _Every_ teenager is different. I know you’re frustrated, and I love that you’re trying, but can you avoid using the B word? It seems like a trigger for sadness with him.”

_A trigger? Has he been reading parenting manuals, or something?_

 “I wasn’t thinking.” Victor admitted. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Yuuri came forward and grasped Victor’s hand, and the Russian male noted that Yuuri’s cheeks seemed to have a rosy hue. “I know what you two can do tonight to bond.”

“What?”

“Well…”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another abrupt ending that kind of veers off of what I originally planned. I think it's better this way, rather than having Victor and Yuuri argue more. 
> 
> Next chapter is devoted nearly entirely to Victor and Yuri, so prepare for some bonding! Thanks to Yuuri, super-mom, of course ;)
> 
> As always, a big THANK YOU to those who review and keep giving me motivation to keep going! You guys are awesome! 
> 
> (Please) Tell me what you think, if you would like. No pressure though. 
> 
> Also, I know a lot of stuff is happening in the world right now, so I hope you are all well <3
> 
> PS: Thanks to those who have corrected my Russian in this! I will admit that I know nothing about the language and have been using Google translate, so thanks a whole heap! I fully intend to go back and edit my mistakes once I finish the story.


End file.
